


Hapless Queer Avengers Keep Pulling the Trigger

by bluestalking, feverbeats



Series: Hapless Queer Avengers [3]
Category: Avengers (Comic), Marvel (Comics), Marvel (Movies), Thor (Comics)
Genre: Additional Warnings Apply, F/F, Genderqueer Character, LGBTQ Character, M/M, Other, Trans Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-08
Updated: 2012-04-14
Packaged: 2017-11-01 17:06:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 25
Words: 70,383
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/359241
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluestalking/pseuds/bluestalking, https://archiveofourown.org/users/feverbeats/pseuds/feverbeats
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"We're not going to function very well if we just sit back feeling sorry for every guy with a sob story who storms in here trying to kill us," Tony says. </p><p> </p><p>  <i>In which Loki, Bucky Barnes and Tony all have terrible pasts, and everyone else feels deeply concerned.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. bucky barnes won't sleep through the night

**Author's Note:**

> WHAT HAPPENED IN PART TWO: 
> 
> Victor Von Doom gives Loki a home - Natasha and Clint have some issues with Loki killing people - if words are Loki's weapons, the Avengers are screwed - every Avenger knows Tony is trans - Sif and Jan make things awkward in Latveria - Victor puts his foot in his mouth and Loki puts his magic through a window - Jan and Natasha have the only stable relationship - Sif heads back to Asgard - Tony and Steve finally get laid - Steve's ex shows up out of the past as a brainwashed assassin
> 
> PLEASE READ! 
> 
> STORY WARNINGS: explicit consensual sex of several queer varieties, mental instability, brainwashing, PTSD, references to alcohol abuse, reference to past consensual incest and underage sex, PLEASE NOTE: past rape as a MAJOR PLOT POINT (note: NO flashbacks, NO on-screen, but involves rape by sibling/father figures). Chapter warnings will always be posted. And, as always, nice things happen, too. 
> 
> CHAPTER WARNINGS: Bucky is a brainwashed amnesiac, threats of violence

Steve jolts awake before he even registers Jarvis's voice in his ear. Tony is asleep next to him. It's pitch dark and after the first two seconds of wakefulness Steve feels like he hasn't rested at all.

"--for Steve Rogers," the wall says politely. Steve is halfway out of bed by the time Jarvis's voice is replaced by Bucky's.

"Hey, Rogers," Bucky drawls. "Guess what? I've busted out of better prisons than this. Dozens of times. You think a little sweet-talking and some light brainwashing will stop me from winding up with my knife at your throat?" He pauses for a little too long and then adds flatly, "My head is killing me."

Tony stirs next to Steve. "Hey," he says sharply. "What's--" Then he actually pays attention to what he's hearing.

Steve is standing prey-still next to the bed, looking towards the wall. Bucky (except it's not, it's clearly not) is talking in that terrible voice. He was always a little vicious, but he never was cold before.

Steve says, barely over him, "What do you want me to do?"

"Why don't you come check on me?" the Winter Soldier says, voice still flat.

"Steve," Tony snaps. "Don't, okay? We need to secure the room. We can't rush into this."

"Jarvis," Steve says, ignoring both of them, "Mute our side of the conversation, please." Jarvis acknowledges. Steve says, voice steely, "I'm not stupid, Tony."

Tony recoils slightly, still sleepy and definitely still anxious. "I know," he says warily. "But you've been...you know how you've been about him. I just wanted to make sure you took care of yourself."

"This isn't about my feelings," Steve says harshly. "I said I would help him, not indulge delusions about his mental state so he killed me and all my friends. You have a team. Get them involved." He takes a deep breath and says, only slightly penitent, "If it were up to me I'd get Bruce in, too, not just the ones in the Tower."

Tony swallows. None of this situation feels good. "Yeah," he says. "Well, I can handle it. Okay." He rolls out of bed. "I'll call them all in. I think it's probably past time we did that. Should have known we couldn't let it lie for a night."

"The door's open now, by the way," the Winter Soldier says slightly tinnily from the speaker.

"Make your calls," Steve says urgently, and is out of the bedroom in an instant. He snatches up his shield from where it's leaning against his saggy couch, and is out the door in moments. If Tony says anything, Steve doesn't hear him. He's already out of time, so there's none to lose on manners.

The Winter Soldier waits. He knows he probably shouldn't, that he should hide somewhere and take a shot at knifing Rogers from behind, but his head is pounding so hard he can't think. He's still got the blade that was concealed in his belt, although he's missing the belt now.

He's leaning in the doorway, clad only in pajama bottoms, when Rogers shows up.

Steve is in his pajamas, too, and he thinks that if he were anyone else, the two of them facing off in flannel nightwear would be kind of horrifyingly funny. He says, without the hint of a smile or a laugh, "You called. I came." He's holding his shield slack by his side.

The Winter Soldier looks Steve up and down with much more of a leer than he thinks he's allowed. Personality doesn't help make kills, after all, but the leer comes naturally, so he lets it.

"Looking good, soldier," he says. In the back of his head, he's horrified. This is unprofessional, unhelpful, and--and it's _mean._ There's something awful and jarring about this man standing in front of him not armed with anything more than a shield, and hearing himself say these words.

Steve swallows. "I've been doing all right, lately," he says. "It wasn't so good here at first. I woke up and our whole world was gone, and one of the last things I remembered was you dying. Seemed like maybe I should have stayed asleep."

"Should have known you'd start in with this again," the Winter Soldier mutters. He raises his knife high enough that Rogers will notice it. He didn't know, though. He can barely remember how he got here.

Steve suddenly finds it very hard to stay on alert, to act like this person he's looking at is a potential enemy when it _shouldn't_ be. He feels as old as his birth date.

"Sorry to bore you," he says quietly. "You said your head's still bothering you?"

"Yeah, it fucking _hurts,_ genius," Bucky snaps.

"I did offer you painkillers," Steve retorts. "And I told you I wouldn't dope you up unless you asked, so if you've still got a headache, that's your fault, don't you think?"

The Winter Soldier frowns. He doesn't want a fight. Not that kind. (But he does, he _does,_ all he's ever done is fight.)

He feints at Steve with the knife and pulls back before he even comes close. Steve shifts his left foot back, raises his shield just an inch or two. 

"If you don't know who the hell you are or what the hell you're doing," he says, "maybe that's the wrong time to start threatening things you can't take back."

"I know who I am, pal," Bucky says.

That's not right.

"I know who I am," the Winter Soldier says. And he tries to stab Steve in earnest.

Steve swings his shield up to deflect the blow. As it knocks Bucky off-balance, Steve seizes Bucky's wrist and hauls him forward to ram his fist against the wall. Bucky drops the knife, and Steve pins him to the wall with the breadth of his shield.

"Yeah?" he says. "Who's that, partner?"

Bucky makes a noise that's half snarl and half whimper. He can't think about finding the right answer, because it makes his head hurt so much he wants to scream, so he just says roughly, "The guy who's gonna kill you."

"Maybe," Steve says. "Maybe you're gonna kill me, but that's not a person talking. That's somebody else's idea stuffed inside your head. I don't give a rat's ass about that. You tell me the real thing. Who are _you?"_

Bucky is still. "Jeez, and you tell me to watch _my_ mouth," he mutters. He gives a little half sob and looks at Steve appealingly, because he doesn't have any idea what he's saying.

"Buck," says Steve gently. "Bucky, it's okay. Do you hear me? You're not the mission."

Something in the Winter Soldier rebels. "NO," he shouts, shoving Steve as hard as he can. "Don't fucking call me that!" His head is hurting so badly that he can't stay upright, though, and he drops to a crouch, metal fingers grazing the floor.

Steve kicks the knife away and kneels down, close enough to put his hands on Bucky's arms, but not close enough that a headbutt can take him by surprise.

"I'm sorry," he says. "I'm not trying to hurt you. I'm not."

"Heard that line before," Bucky says, and for a second the distrust is pure Bucky. He's not robotic in this moment, but he has no idea who Steve is.

"And when I say it, I always mean it," Steve says. He catches his breath and says, "Do you know your name?"

Bucky tries to think about it and cries out in pain, doubling over to clutch his head. Through the pain, he makes himself say it without thinking.

"James Buchanan Barnes, sir."

Steve can't breathe for a couple seconds. When he does, he forces his voice calm to say, "That's good, soldier. Do you know who you're talking to?"

Bucky tries. Then he doesn't try. Either way, the words won't come. He shakes his head, feeling like a horrific disappointment.

"My name is Steve Rogers," Steve says. His voice is shaking, but he can't help that. "You can call me Steve. We know each other. We're friends."

"Steve," Bucky repeats, trying very hard to remember. "Not sure I have too many friends." He flexes his metal fingers, not sure he remembers what he's about, either.

If they're not friends, he needs to start worrying.

"We served together in the U.S. Army," Steve says. "I was a corporal, but you called me Cap. You got--you got hurt. That's why you can't remember everything."

"Cap," Bucky says quickly so it can't slip away. "Cap. I remember that. So you're not lying to me." He can't really distrust this man as much as he wants to.

"I'm not lying to you," Steve agrees. "I used to call you Bucky, too. Is it okay if I call you that, or do you prefer another name?"

Bucky swallows and tries to--

"I'm the Winter Soldier," he says. Then he feels awful, because he knows he's let Steve down. "I don't know," he says. "I--Bucky is okay till I can take an aspirin or something and think about it."

Steve holds onto that information and ignores the terrible feeling in his gut of watching Bucky fight and fight and not come out on top. Steve says, "All right, Bucky. I think some of my friends might show up soon, because you haven't been all sweetness so far and they want to make sure I'm all right. They're not going to hurt you, and if they tried, I'd hurt them first. You don't need to do anything, all right? Stand down on this one. I just want you to know because they might be loud and it might take a few minutes to calm them down, but they're on our side, okay? They can get you medicine and then you can get back to sleep."

Nothing, no one in Bucky's head likes this. It sounds like exactly the kind of situation he'd rather avoid, and he's not sure he can stop either set of instincts from kicking in when they show up. But he does know he doesn't want to see Steve upset again.

"Restrain me," he says before he can stop himself. Or anything else can stop him.

Steve nods, and then can't immediately think of anything to do it with. But he remembers Jarvis. (It occurs to him to wonder, suddenly, if Tony is still listening to him and Bucky on the other end of the line.)

"Jarvis is the machine that runs the house," Steve says to Bucky, and then says, "Jarvis, what can you do for me fast, by the way of restraints?"

"There are several impolite possibilities, sir," Jarvis says politely. "Nothing nearby, however."

"Thanks," says Steve a little angrily. He wonders why he didn't bring anything that might knock a man out.

Bucky feels rising panic, something he almost _never_ has to deal with. He's always cool in the face of fire, right? But the idea that he might have to fight Steve's friends and hurt Steve is awful, worse than the headache he's still got.

"Come on," he says, rubbing his arms until he remembers one of them doesn't need it, "no belt? Nothing in the room? Sheets, maybe? They won't hold the metal arm, though."

"Buck," Steve says. "How's your head?"

"Fine," Bucky says automatically. Then he pauses and says ruefully, "Well, it hurts. But I can think a little better now."

"Can you walk with me?" Steve asks. "How far can I trust you to walk with me?"

Bucky doesn't know, but he can't just freeze here doing nothing. He's just gonna have to fake it, then. That's what he's good at.

"Far as you need," he says, forcing his teeth to unclench.

"Well, if you can't, you can't, but we'll deal with that if it comes up." He stands up and takes a step back, shield in hand. He's still aware of where that knife is. "We're going somewhere with stronger locks," he says. "Can you get up?"

Offended by the suggestion that he can't, Bucky's on his feet before he has a chance to think about it. In fact, now that he's thinking more clearly, there's a whole lot he'd rather not dwell on. His arm is bugging him.

"Let's go," he says, and he smiles at Steve brightly.

Steve finds it harder to smile now than he did two minutes earlier. "Don't push yourself too hard, soldier," he says. "We're just going a step at a time." He motions Bucky forward, and starts coaxing him in the direction of Hank Pym's lab. Bucky follows willingly, at least as far as he can tell. He doesn't like not knowing where he's headed, but he trusts Steve, and he wants to get himself neutralized until he's not a threat.

Steve can tell Bucky is anxious (strange, on Bucky), so he keeps up a murmur of conversation, one-sided, all the way down to the lab. "Pym's a science man. He and our friend Bruce might be able to figure out why you're feeling mixed up, and then you can figure out what you want to do about it. Pym's not much of a people person, actually--more about ants, but I think that will make him easier to deal with in this case, to be truthful. Bruce, by the way, is also a science man, but stress transforms him into a tall green fellow with a bad temper."

Bucky doesn't understand half of what's coming out of Steve's mouth, but he listens happily enough. Steve's voice is very grounding. He doesn't love the idea of more scientists getting their paws on him, but if Steve says it's okay, it's damn well okay.

"I won't stress him out, then," he says when Steve mentions Bruce.

"Good plan," says Steve. "And he's really very nice on a good day." He doesn't think that comes out exactly how he'd choose, but there're circumstances. 

"Here," he says when they reach the lab. "Jarvis, lights, please." The lights come up, and Steve checks to see if he'll be able to usher Bucky into the room without making him snap. In the doorway, Bucky balks. He's frozen for a second, pure adrenaline racing through him.

He gives Steve a very shaky smile. "Sorry, partner," he says, and his voice shakes, too. "Thought I could do this, but...Well, the room's a little grim."

Steve nods. "I know. Unnerving." He reaches up swiftly and hopes that these same points on Bucky's neck still make him freeze and obey they way they used to.

Bucky goes still under Steve's hand. "Nn," he says, inclining his head slightly toward Steve. He feels very far away from himself, but not--for once--in an unpleasant way.

"C'mon, pal," Steve says gently, feeling guilty, guilty, because he knows this is a cheap trick and a betrayal to Tony and Bucky in equal measure. But it's working. He coaxes Bucky into the room and to one of the containment chambers against the wall. 

"I will never, ever do anything like what they've been doing with you," he says, keeping Bucky's eyes on his. "Got me? You're not going to sleep unless it's the normal kind, Buck. We're not going to turn you into somebody else. We're gonna keep you safe. We're gonna help you get your head back where you want it."

Bucky shudders, his whole body trembling. He believes it, but he can't make himself speak right now, so he just nods desperately so Steve will know he knows.

"You got any other weapons?" Steve asks.

Bucky actually has to think about this one. But no, he didn't take that precaution. Lazy, sloppy. "Nn," he says shaking his head.

"All right," Steve says. He guides Bucky into the chamber and then backs off and shuts the door. He knows how to lock it, and how to make sure the inside conditions stay normalized. He's watched Hank do it half a dozen times. "I'll make sure you get more clothes, and some bedding, and food and all that," he says, but it's less to reassure Bucky than to try to push down this shameful feeling like he's just lured a wild animal into a cage to watch it panic.

There's a second in which Bucky thinks he's going to throw himself against the wall, anything, _anything so he's not in this cell,_ but then takes a deep breath and thinks of Steve's miserable face. No one who looked liked that the whole time he was locking Bucky up could be that bad. And whatever else is wrong in his head, Bucky's got good instincts. Steve isn't just a good guy, he's _Bucky's_ good guy.

Bucky takes a shaky breath. This is familiar ground, it's just a little rocky. "Don't worry, Cap," he says steadily. "I've got this."

"Not alone," Steve says thickly. "I'm gonna look out for you this time. You don't have to go it alone."


	2. hapless queer avengers lose sleep over bucky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She shakes her head vehemently. "He was better dead, so I left him dead."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Warnings: references to brainwashing and alcohol abuse

Tony calls the others, using their cards, as soon as Steve leaves the room. He's only half paying attention, though. The other half is listening intently to the intercom in the wall. 

It doesn't take long for Steve to get there. It doesn't take long for Tony to feel like shit. He's glad Steve seems to be handling the situation, so he feels like he made the right call in sending the others to the meeting room instead of to back Steve up immediately.

Tony knows, just like he has all night, that he has no right to feel jealous, but he's starting to feel like he has a _reason._ He can't make himself leave to meet the others until Steve takes Bucky away, and by then he's late and feels even worse than before. He's going to be the last one there, and he doesn't even have a plan.

Steve calls up to Tony, eyes still on Bucky in the chamber--it's a cell, is what it is, and it makes him feel sick--

"Tony," he says, "we're down in Pym's lab. Can Hank or Bruce get in here to make sure everything's secure? And--and he's not very comfortable."

"Sure thing," Tony says, and his voice comes out _awful._ "I'll get Bruce." Bruce probably still isn't fully healed, but Tony would rather have him around than Hank. He keeps thinking having someone else might make things feel better.

"Thanks," Steve says. It comes out a bit flat. "Are the, ah, Avengers...assembled?"

Nowhere in his history of weak jokes has Steve made a joke that weak.

"Yeah," Tony says. He clears his throat. "In the meeting room. I'm...on my way. Outside, right now. Got a little sidetracked. I'll hurry. Bucky looks like he's in peak physical condition, and he might be able to break out of there."

But all that does is set off the same series of concerns that seemed so abstract a week ago. _Peak physical condition._

"He won't right now," Steve says tiredly, "but that could change. Please send Bruce as quickly as you can."

"Okay," Tony practically snaps. There's no reason for him to be like this, but he is. He shuts his phone and pushes open the door to the meeting room, trying not to think about how for once in his life, he's going to be dumped not for all the things he is, but for all the things he's not. He wants a drink. He can’t stop for a drink.

"Whoa," Clint says when Tony comes in the door. "When you said emergency, you clearly meant emergency."

"Yes," Natasha interrupts him. "Please tell us the problem."

Bruce is there, looking bruise-eyed but better between Thor and Natasha.

"Bucky," Tony says, forcing himself to be the leader he has to be. "Steve's sidekick, for those of you who don't pay attention." _Sidekick_ isn't fair, but he's upset. "He's alive and brainwashed and currently locked up in the lab. Bruce?"

"What?" Bruce says blankly, because he doesn't quite follow, but it comes out sounding sort of rude. Everyone else is too stunned to interject.

"I need you in the lab," Tony says sharply. "That was the important part."

"Are you sure?" Thor says, sounding dubious. Great, now he's probably going to run off and talk to Steve and ruin things even more. This is how Tony's night is going.

"Hank's lab?" Bruce asks. "Where's Hank?" He shakes his head. "Never mind. What am I doing down there?"

"Making sure the chamber where Steve's holding him _will_ actually hold him," Tony says, turning to Bruce and, as he knew he would, feeling immensely grateful. "He's got a metal arm, and we don't know how strong it is. And I'm guessing he's a trained assassin, not to mention a soldier."

"Do you want me to stay down there in case Hulk would--be useful?" Bruce asks.

Tony looks him up and down. "Let's just say you're there in a scientific capacity, okay? I don't want you doing anything like that until you're back at a hundred percent."

Bruce bites back something impatient, because protesting is going to be taken as a sign that he's still sick, and besides, Tony doesn't look well. Which makes sense, if Bucky Barnes is back from the dead just as Tony and Steve are starting to settle into a relationship.

"Got it," he says, and he's out the door before Thor can make a worried sound.

Thor, who looked like he was about to leap out of his seat, settles back somewhat grumpily. Good, one thing Tony doesn't have to deal with. He turns toward the door and hesitates. "Uh," he says. "I should probably go, too?" He didn't mean for it to come out as a question. 

"I will go if you ask, yes," Natasha says. She makes the decision as she speaks, knowing it's going to be painful later if it's not now. "But I do not know if this will be good. I only know the Winter Soldier, not Steve Rogers's partner. I do not know what will happen if he sees me."

There's a short silence.

"Hang on, what?" Jan says.

Natasha says clearly, not looking at anyone but Tony, "James Buchanan Barnes was reprogrammed by the Soviets. I was in the power of the same people for some time. We knew each other at one time, before they had finished making him what he is now." She shrugs. "He already had only one arm then, of course."

Tony only lets the silence last for a moment before saying, "Well, then you know more about what's happened to him than any of us. We need you on this one, if you're willing."

All he wants to do is scream at her.

"Wait," Jan says, "why didn't you mention this before? You knew he was alive this whole time Steve was all sad?"

"You think it would make him happy, knowing this one he loved was turned into a puppet for his worst enemies and used to kill people without honor?" Natasha scowls. "You think it would make him happy, his partner kept on ice except when he is let out to kill?" She shakes her head vehemently. "He was better dead, so I left him dead. Besides, the Winter Soldier has not been heard of for years. I thought he may be dead. I left it this way."

Jan swallows and says, "Oh," in a tiny voice.

"We're wasting time," Tony says harshly. "I want this situation dealt with so Steve can get some fucking sleep." He drags a hand over his eyes and hopes really hard that he doesn't look like he's falling apart. From the way Jan's looking at him, he doesn't think he's doing a good job.

"What do you want us to do?" Clint asks.

 _This team,_ Tony thinks violently, _is so good._

"I want you on call," he decides. "I wanted to brief you, but I think Steve, Bruce, and Natasha can handle it for now. But I want you ready. We don't know what he's capable of."

"I can help you find information," Natasha says. "Then you will know more."

"Thank you," Tony says. "All of you, thanks." He can't be too angry at Natasha, because she's going to be help they desperately need. But he still wishes he hadn't been _blindsided._

"Of course," Clint says. "Let us know, though, right? I'm assuming we want Bucky to be--to get better. Yeah? So maybe it will take all of us to keep him in check _and_ keep him safe until you manage that. We're here for ya, y'know."

"Yeah," Tony says. His voice comes out scratchy, like he's about to cry. He's had so little sleep and he's so upset and this team is _so good--_

"Shit," he says furiously, dragging a hand over his eyes. "Thanks, Clint."

"Tony," Natasha says, "should we go now?"

"Yeah," he says, and his voice fucking _breaks._ There isn't any point pretending he has it together, so he slaps Natasha's shoulder, waves at the others, and heads for the lab.

Natasha waits until they're alone and en route, and says, "Tony. I am sorry I told you like this. I did not think it was relevant until now, and now I did not want to wait until the truth could do worse."

Tony waits a second until he's sure he can speak.

"Yeah, I know. It was...professional. I'll give you that. And you had no way of knowing he'd be back. But god, couldn't you have--I don't know, warned me a little? This is pretty much the worst thing I can imagine for our relationship right now." There's nothing about that last sentence that doesn't sound stupid, but he can't take it back.

Natasha is silent for a moment. She says, "Does James Barnes seem well to you now?"

And now Tony feels selfish, too. "No," he says quietly. "Someone's been in his head, and I think it's some...pretty severe brainwashing. He's trying to break out of it, but he's been programmed to kill Steve. Poor kid." He means that.

Natasha says, measured, "I met him in the place where they did that to him. I met him because we were in the same position." She doesn't look at Tony. "Do you understand perhaps why I did not speak before?"

"Natasha--" Tony starts. But no, she doesn't like sympathy. "I appreciate this," he says instead. "A lot. Not just tonight, but the whole team thing. You don't have to do it, but you are, and I'm really glad you're here. Okay?"

Natasha nods. "Good," she says. "Ah. We are here."

A wave of panic hits Tony, but the fearless leader can't freeze up. So he opens the door to the lab, tousled, exhausted, and looking like he's been crying.

Bruce looks up from beside Steve, standing by the containment chamber. Bucky is unconscious on the chamber floor.

"I put him out," Bruce explains. "He, ah, he asked for it. We agreed," he adds.

"He was scared before that it would wipe his memory," Steve says without turning around, "but I guess it turns out he doesn't have to go to sleep to get muddled up."

Suddenly Tony can't feel anything except _miserable for Steve._

"Hey," he says, crossing the lab to him. "Steve." He puts his hand on Steve's arm. "We have a few ideas, okay?"

Steve turns and looks at him, and there are tears in his eyes. "Do you?" he says. There's a note of hope in it, but it surprises him. This feels like the cruelest joke in the universe, not a story that ends well because they're the good guys.

Tony's breath catches. He _knows_ he's got to hold it together now, because he doesn't ever want to make Steve look like that.

"Yes," he says. "Natasha might know something about the techniques they used on him, for one thing. And he seemed like he kept fighting, so that's good."

Steve nods. "Yeah," he says. "Yeah, he's a fighter. He's--"

That sentence gets stuck over a silence before it can get going.

"Tony," he says, "could we please go to another room, just for a minute?"

"That would be good," Tony says. He takes a deep breath and forces it to be even. "There's another lab off this one; I don't know if you know." He leaves Steve's side and pushes open the door to the small, adjacent lab.

Steve trails after him and sags with a moment's relief as the door shuts behind them.

"I'm deciding," he says, staring at his feet. "Am I allowed to fall apart in front of you, Tony? Over this? Do I get to cry to _you_ of all people about how the love of my life came back when he was supposed to be dead, and he came back wrong? Is that fair to either of you?"

Tony's heart literally and horribly skips a beat when Steve says _love of my life._ But his voice is entirely steady when he says, "Steve. You're allowed to fall apart in front of me over _anything."_ He's shocked at how much he means it.

A small, awful sound escapes Steve's chest, and then a worse and a longer one.

"Tony," he says, and he's shaking, he feels it, and he feels it even more when he presses his hands against his face. "Tony, Tony, why is this happening? Why am I gonna have to break his heart? How can I do that when he's already so--I don't even know if he's gonna live long enough for me to tell him I moved on."

Tony has no idea what to say. Telling Steve that he doesn't _have_ to break Bucky's heart won't help either of them right now, he doesn't think.

"Easy," he says softly, reaching out to put his hand on Steve's shoulder. "We can worry about that once we fix him, okay? And we _will_ fix him. We're smart and informed and clever."

"Shut up," Steve says, to his own surprise. "Please shut up. Please, I just need--" He grabs Tony's shirt by the shoulders and buries his face in the crook of Tony's neck. He wasn't going to do this in front of anyone, and if Tony won't stop talking he still won't, but he needs to be allowed just a minute where nothing will be okay.

Tony goes quiet and puts his arms around Steve, letting himself stop talking and feel just as hopeless and miserable as Steve does. It's easy.

It takes longer than Steve expects, to get his minute. It takes closer to ten, and the only thing he keeps control of is how loud he is, because Bruce and Natasha are the best people on the team who could overhear him crying, but that doesn't mean he wants them to.

Tony cries, too, but he doesn't let Steve see. He just holds him and pats his back and waits. Finally Steve backs up and wipes his eyes, and reaches out a thumb and wipes Tony's eyes, and says, "Thank God for you, Tony Stark."

"Oh," Tony says. That's...not what he expected. "Oh, Steve." He laughs shakily and squeezes Steve's arm.

"Gosh, I just want to go to bed and not wake up until the world is a kinder place," Steve says. He smiles ruefully. "Shall we go find out what smart ideas Natasha and Bruce have cooked up so far?"

Tony slides his hand down Steve's arm to grip his hand. "Sounds like a plan," he says firmly." He gives Steve's hand on last squeeze and lets go before going back into the main lab. Even if Bucky's out, Tony doesn't want to risk trouble. He feels at least a little better than when he came in here. A little.

Steve trails out behind him.

Bruce says, "I think it would be perfectly safe, if you wanted to get him some warmer clothes and some blankets or something. I don't think he'd use them against us or anything." He shrugs. "Also if he wakes up and starts trying to kill us I can just ask Hulk to hold him down until Tasha knocks him out again."

"We don't need to do that," Tony snaps, already wrung-out and now far too easily set off by Natasha's nickname. But that doesn't matter right now. "You're still recovering. If he needs to be dealt with, the rest of us can deal with him. But he won't. I'll make sure he gets blankets." He glances at Steve for confirmation.

"He might need," Steve starts, but Bruce interrupts him.

" _Thanks_ for the medical input, Tony," Bruce says. "But maybe you should call Hank down here if you think all I can do is tranquilize people and stand around being delicate."

Tony skids to a mental halt. "Good point," he says, startled into being polite. "Okay, if we need Hulk, we've got him. Let's just hope we don't. The last thing we need is to freak Bucky out any more than we have to." He turns to Natasha. "So, Black Widow, thoughts? Anything useful?"

"Probably he is drugged," Natasha says thoughtfully. She glances at Steve and says, "You do not know, I have some understanding of where he was. I will tell you later more of the details, but now is no time, yes? If I knew he was still alive, I would have said this."

"I don't," Steve starts, and then shakes his head. "Later. Yes." He has to hang on to that because he believes Natasha has just implied something terrible, something he should already have known.

Bruce says, "Will there be withdrawal?"

"Perhaps." Natasha shrugs. "It is not the whole problem anyway. I am not a psychiatrist or an interrogator. I do not know how you break things this way or repair them."

Steve makes a small, unhappy sound.

"Doesn't matter," Tony says quickly. "What we don't know, we'll find out. We just need him stable long enough that we have time." He puts Steve's shoulder. "And we can do that." He feels confident that he's not entirely wrong, for a second. He hopes that's enough for Steve.

"Tony," Bruce says uneasily, "we don't know his triggers. We don't know his missions, do we? We don't know if he's being tracked, or if the Bucky side is--honest. We need somebody who actually understands this stuff. Does anybody on our team understand this stuff, or are only the bad guys any good at this?"

"Guess Nick didn't think of that when he put together the team," Tony says. He's just _tired,_ and no matter what he says to change it, this situation is _bad._ "We've got Hank, I guess. He's into all that psychology of criminals stuff." It's weak, but he doesn't know what else to try.

"Hell," says Bruce. "You don't think--I mean, Nick is practically a bad guy. Do you think he...?"

"You said they torture people!" Steve says.

"That's kind of what I mean," Bruce answers.

"Okay." Tony raises his hands in what he hopes is a calming manner. "Steve, I think Bruce is right. But we won't ever leave Nick alone with Bucky, okay? We'll take every precaution."

"You talk about him like a sex criminal," Natasha says darkly.

"Sex criminal, maybe, but he's also a mechanic, and he likes scheming and not being above-board," Bruce says. "We should bring him in. In the meantime can we _please_ get Steve's friend a shirt or something? I can go. I can go right now."

"Go," Tony says gratefully. Getting things done isn't really the order of the night. "I'll contact Nick and bring him in tomorrow. I think we should keep Bucky out until then, because we all need a break." He turns to Steve. "Right?"

He doesn't think anything will be better tomorrow, but Steve deserves a few hours' rest.

"I will stay," Natasha says. "I am awake already. I will be of use I think if he wakes up. Banner will stay and be in charge of needles?"

"I will stay and be in charge of needles," Bruce agrees with a little grin, and then hurries off upstairs to steal some clothes from someone's room.

"I can stay," Steve says, even though he's exhausted and he knows already that they won't let him.

"Nice try," Tony says, but gently. "I'm taking you back to bed and we're getting some _sleep._ Black Widow will handle things here." He really hopes that Bucky doesn't wake up and see her, though.

"Don't look so ill," Natasha says, to both of them. "I am very good watching. Anyway, he wakes up and knows me, I will tell him with authority that he has stupid orders and they are bad people."

 _This team is so good,_ Tony reminds himself again.

"Thank you," he says gratefully, taking Steve's arm. "We'll get all this right in the morning."

"Yeah," says Steve, which is not what he means, because he finds it unlikely, but he's too tired to argue. He looks down at Bucky, lying half-dressed and unconscious on the floor of a cell, and he has to stop breathing for a few seconds and pull himself together.

"Night, Buck," he says quietly, and then turns to Tony so Tony can take him out of here.

Tony takes Steve's hand and leads him out, feeling too numb and worried to do anything else. He tries not to look at Bucky as he leaves.


	3. hapless queer avengers aren't all that alarming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Great!" says Hank. "I promise, Mr. Barnes, I'll treat you as though you were an ant."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Warnings: brainwashed Bucky

When Bucky wakes up, it doesn't matter for a second who he is, he's _angry._ None of the people he is want to be in cages. And he hates labs.

He lies still for a second and takes stock. He can't hear anyone, but he's almost certain there's at least one person in the room outside the confined area he's in. When he can't gather any more data by lying still, he launches himself to his feet.

Natasha is seated, one leg crossed over the other, watching him.

"You have slept," she says. "This is good."

Natasha is the only person in the room who hasn't; Bruce, who isn't exactly as recovered as he has implied, is a scruffy, disheveled ball under a blanket in the corner. He hasn't been sleeping long, and Natasha doesn't begrudge him.

The Winter Soldier narrows his eyes. "Natalia?" he asks. This is a trick. Something is really, really wrong.

"Hello, James," Natasha says. She glances at Bruce; he is still asleep. "Stay calm. It is really me and I am not being used. We can test this if you like."

"Yeah," he says in a low voice. Just in case anyone's listening. "Yeah, that'd be good. You know I can't trust you, right?" There's someone missing here, he thinks. Someone he wants.

"I am trustworthy," Natasha says, "but I know you cannot. I have missed you since they took us apart from each other, James. I thought you were dead, or I would have told Steve Rogers about you sooner. He will be hurt that I did not, when he thinks about it."

"Steve," Bucky says. "Oh man, I need to find him, he's gotta--" He swallows and stops. "I don't know what I'm saying."

"Take a breath," Natasha says. "You are two people now, I think. You are James Buchanan Barnes, and you are the Winter Soldier also. Yes? What is your name right now?"

Bucky swallows. "Shit," he says, "guess you have my number." Then he remembers he's been asked a question. "Uh. James."

Natasha nods.

"You know me from the Soviets," she says. "You know me because they were making the Winter Soldier out of you, yes?"

There's a second where Bucky doesn't know what the hell she's talking about, but then the two parts of his life slide over each other and for a second he's just James, just everything together. "Yeah." His voice comes out scratchy.

"Good," Natasha says firmly. "I must ask you to remember only a few more things, yes? Stay calm, James. Can you do that?"

He isn't sure, but he says yes, because that's what you do.

"Hmph," says Natasha, but she presses on anyway. "Who is Captain America to you?"

Bucky can't remember who it's okay to talk to about this, so he just says, "My partner."

"Good enough," Natasha says, nodding. "Do you remember what your handlers wanted the Winter Soldier to do to him?"

Bucky doesn't want to think about it in case it overwhelms him and becomes who he is, but right now things seem okay. Pretty stable.

"They wanted me to assassinate him," he says, horrified all over again when he remembers.

Natasha nods. "They did. Because they are bad people, James, and they have tried to make you into someone bad like them. You didn't hurt him. He is safe."

Bucky shakes his head. "Boy, I'm really glad you're here." He can see the whole of his life if he looks at it sideways, and he just feels sick. He catches a glimpse of his arm and remembers that, too. "Oh, God."

"Look at me," Natasha orders.

He does.

She says, "Steve Rogers and I are on a team together now. He is safe, and I am also safe. We are making you safe, and we will make it so you are only one person again."

"Sounds too good to be true," he mutters. "But thanks." He didn't think he trusted anyone, but that might not include her.

"Hah!" says Natasha. "If it were too good to be true you would not look so sick. I do not know, how many things have changed, how many seeds they planted in your head? It will hurt to take their thorns out of you. This is the truth, if you want it."

He does. That fits. That makes this less easy, and he can trust difficulty. "Thanks," he whispers. His metal hand, pressed against the wall, still looks wrong. So maybe this is real.

"I want to see Steve, though," he says.

"I believe he is asleep," Natasha says. "You gave him a difficult night, I think. But he will come see you when he is awake." She glances over at Bruce again, says, "Hey! Little scientist! Big monster!" and shakes her head when Bruce sits up with a jerk. "You talk to someone new about our team, for now, and then you will know better that this is not a dream."

"Great," Bucky says, eyeing the scruffy little man with distaste. He really doesn't trust scientists. "What's he here for?"

"Thegoodkinduvawake?" inquires Bruce in a fast mumble, blinking at Bucky. He runs his hand through his hair and shakes his head. "Er. I mean. I'd rather you didn't call me that, Tasha. People hate scientists. I get hated enough already."

"It's okay," Bucky says with a grin, "I'm crazy. I hate everyone. Don't take it personal." He can't decide whether he's okay or panicking.

Bruce gets to his feet and pads over with the blanket still attached. "Used to it," says Bruce with a little smile. "No problem. I'm Bruce."

"I'm James, I guess," Bucky says. It seems safest. "Are you actually a monster, or was she kidding? Last I heard, Natalia didn't have much sense of humor."

"Oh," says Bruce, and his smile dims. He says lightly, "I try to get through a whole introductory conversation where that doesn't come up sometimes, but I guess we're past that point."

Natasha frowns at him, which is a superior alternative to feeling as bad as she feels.

"He's not a monster," she says.

"I'm a monster," Bruce corrects.

"Welcome to the club," Bucky says more gently than he expects to. "People been calling me that since I was a kid. And it seems like you're on the right side, so I don't have a problem."

Bruce smiles again. "You haven't met Hulk yet," he says. "You might change your mind."

"Very helpful," Natasha says. She turns to Bucky. "There was an experiment of his, much like the super soldier serum, but it did not go right. Anger and fear make him into somebody else, you see? The somebody else is very big and also green. He is not good for stealth missions."

"Thanks, Natasha," Bruce says, looking put out.

"Green?" Bucky's eyebrows go up. "Sounds like the serum got a hell of a lot more interesting since I was around. But other than that, he sounds pretty normal. I don't know anyone who doesn't get turned into someone else when he's angry and scared."

"I'm honestly not sure if that makes me feel better or worse," Bruce mutters.

"To be fair to Hulk, he is a separate conscious entity," Natasha says consideringly. "And he has killed several hundred people. Whereas Bruce is very squeamish and tries to redeem everything in sight."

"That," Bucky concedes, "is a little different. Huh. Well, nice to meet you. I think I like you already." He doesn't feel like he's being lied to, which is nice and refreshing. There's still something in the back of his head telling him to bust out of here and hurt people, and he has a half-formed plan already, but he's trying to block it out.

Bruce relaxes. "If you decide you don't," he offers, "at least you know now that I'm really hard to kill and you're a good size for sitting on."

"That...helps," Bucky says. Right now he wants people around who're a match for him. Especially if Steve shows up. Oh, god, he has to get it together for Steve. He clenches his metal fist.

Bruce's smile reappears. "Yeah, I'm sure it's good to know you're not being chaperoned by just any small unshaven street scientist," he says.

Bucky laughs in surprise. "Okay, you're the first scientist I haven't totally hated. This is good. I'm probably not going to try to kill you. At least not this second." It's probably better to be honest.

"You probably shouldn't kill me," Bruce says. "My boyfriend wouldn't like it."

"...What?" Bucky says. He feels as though the bottom of his stomach has dropped out. He thinks maybe he's gone kind of pale.

"Er," says Bruce, "that wasn't a pointed comment. Uh. That was more pointed, right there, but not in a--oh, hell."

"Homosexuals are very loud now," Natasha says. She decides this is not the moment to inform either of them about Jan.

"Oh," Bucky breathes. He shouldn't be coming to pieces about this of all things, but it's—it's the one thing he allowed to be important, even just in his own head.

Bruce says, "I'm sorry. I—that was too fast. I wasn't thinking. A lot is different now. Um." He bites his lip. "It's not magically easy, now. People still call it evil, a lot. And try to pass laws to make it different from—from other kinds of relationships. It's getting better, though." He blushes. "I don't even know why I said that. I never say that."

"I'm really, really glad you did," Bucky says shakily. "I. Thank you. Thanks." He can't say anything else, because he still doesn't know these people that well, but. This is a world he never thought he'd wake up in after the war. Maybe now Steve—

He realizes he's tearing up.

"Oh good," Bruce says, relieved. Less relieved when he thinks about Steve and Tony and has suspicions, because Bucky's reaction just made the suspicions a lot stronger. But at least it's not him who's ruining Bucky's day.

"Listen," he says, "I hate people. And everyone on this team, pretty much, is fucked up. But I like the people on this team, and they're all doing okay. Actually, they're doing _good."_ He crosses his arms. "So your chances are good, too."

Bucky takes a deep breath and swallows. "So, I feel a hell of a lot better than when I woke up. I feel like I have a shot."

Natasha says, "This is a good place. You are a good boy." She shrugs. "It will be difficult in the middle I think, but there is an end, also."

"Forgot how damn great you are," Bucky says. "So, when do I get to stop being a lab rat and get myself fixed up?" He suspects getting fixed up involves a lot more labs and a lot more cages, but he can hope.

"Don't know that yet," Bruce says. "I suspect we'll have to debrief you pretty, um, exhaustively. And we'll probably need to show you can stay topside, like this, I mean, before we can let you out. I _can_ fight you, don't worry about that, but I don't want to have to." He looks worried. "I think we're gonna have to take it slow."

"Redeeming everything," Natasha murmurs.

Bucky hates slow. Always has. But the thing in his head that wants to _kill,_ the new thing, is still pretty loud, so he's not going to argue right this second.

"In the interest of full disclosure," he says, "part of me wants to kill all of you right now."

"That is not surprising," Natasha says.

"At least we know now isn't the time to let you out," Bruce adds. "Hey, you must be starving. Want breakfast? I promise Tasha and I won't let you do us in with efficient murder and go on a rampage when we're handing your eggs over."

This guy, Bucky decides, is _great._ "Thanks for that one," he says. "And you won't let me do anything stupid in front of Steve?" He knows they can't promise that, but the last thing he wants is to hurt Steve more.

Bruce glances at Natasha. "We'll see how long we can keep him away. Maybe if you're feeling up to it for a little while today you can grant him an audience? Might keep him from fretting so much."

"Sure thing. I'll pull myself together by then." Bucky really hopes he can. Nothing feels quite right, like the two halves of him still don't add up to an entire person most of the time. "And the other guy, Stark? Is he the boss?"

Natasha smiles. "He is the boss. We are very new, and he is learning, but you can trust he will do the right thing."

"Ignore all his flapping around and being offensive," Bruce says. "Tony's a genius. In fact. Sometimes it doesn't get reflected in his people skills. Actually, that's true of most of the team."

"Like you," Natasha says.

"Thanks, Natasha," Bruce says again.

"Oh, wow," Bucky says. "This sure ain't the army." He's a little tense about how good this seems, even though it's incredibly fucking strange.

"No," Bruce says, "it's the reject bin. But we do okay, when we're not hurting each other's feelings." His voice gets very dry at the end, but he's so straightfaced it's hard to tell what he's saying about it.

"I was never so great with feelings," Bucky says, smiling. "I don't know what that means if I hang around here."

"Eh, it does nothing to change me," Natasha says with a careless shrug.

"I'm calling up for breakfast," Bruce says. "Who do you think will ruin eggs least, Clint, Jarvis or Jan?"

"Jarvis is the disembodied voice, right?" Bucky asks. See, he pays attention. _Gotta destroy the computer system on the way out,_ the voice in the back of his head says.

"Jarvis is the computer system," Bruce agrees. "Tony built it, which means it's basically unbeatable. Which is good for us." He smiles at Bucky in a way that means, _good for you._

Bucky suddenly wants to get out of here, and not in a murderous way. Just in a way where these people are being really nice and it's really fucking scary.

"Huh," he says. "So. Eggs."

"Jan makes good eggs," Natasha says certainly. "Also, do not let Clint into this room. He will certainly do something stupid."

"Point," Bruce says, and wanders across the room to call up to Jan.

"I can't wait to meet Clint," Bucky mutters a little viciously.

When Jan answers Bruce's call, she sounds blurry and tired. "Hello? Is there a disaster?"

"No!" says Bruce. Jan makes him a little anxious. "Uh, no. We were wondering if, Natasha said you were, could you--do you think you could make him breakfast? Us breakfast? For down here? He's awake."

"Uhh," Jan says. "Breakfast? Okay. A little weird, but okay. I'll whip something up and be right down. You guys want coffee? Did Natasha sleep at _all?"_

"Um," Bruce mumbles guiltily, "no. Not yet. Coffee would--be good."

"Ughh," Jan says. "Yeah, okay, sure. Coffee and food comin' up. Tell her to lie down or something. God. Okay, bye!"

"Bye," Bruce says, after she's signed off.

Across the room, Natasha calls, "Jan is the one thing you are afraid of?"

This is not something Bruce wants to be noted.

"You're scared of a girl?" Bucky snorts. He realizes too late he probably shouldn't be saying that with a girl like Natalia in the room.

Natasha snorts. "It is too bad, being a sexist pig you still fit into this world very well."

Bruce says dubiously, "I'm not _scared."_

"Whatever," Bucky says cheerfully, "you wouldn't believe the shit Steve's scared of."

"Hah," Bruce says. He wonders when exactly Bucky is going to find out that Steve stopped waiting at the seventy year mark.

"Too bad I have to kill him," Bucky says in exactly the same voice.

"James," Natasha says, "replay that sentence."

Bucky blinks and thinks about it. Then he says, "Oh. Shit. I'm sorry." The fact that he didn't even register the change is terrifying.

"Not your fault," Bruce says. "Of course you're not going to be cured just like that. You might know who you are but as I understand it," from everything Natasha has said during the night, "you're the dictionary definition of brainwashed. It's going to take more than a night in a cell and some okay conversation to get that cleared out of you."

Bucky relaxes a little. "Oh, phew," he says. "Okay. Yeah. Slow. Taking it slow." He's still horrible at that, but.

"Sorry," Bruce says. "I would hate this, in your position." He turns to Natasha. "Where the hell is Hank, anyway?"

Natasha shrugs, "Probably in bed?"

"I'm calling Tony, too," Bruce says in an aggravated voice. "This isn't my kind of thing. We need Hank. Preferably awake." He sidles off to the other side of the room again and rings Tony.

Tony's card goes off just as he's headed down to the lab anyway, so he ignores it and speeds up, instead. Probably crisis time, and he hasn't even finished his coffee. But he feels a little more equipped to handle this situation than he did last night.

When he gets to the lab, he's glad to see that no one looks like they're in any immediate danger, so he says brightly to the three of them, "Morning! Everybody sleep well?"

"Sure," Bruce says. "Tony, where is Hank?"

"Hank?" Tony slows down. "Wow, that's a good question, actually. He didn't show up last night, did he?"

Tony knew something was missing last night, something he couldn't pinpoint, and he's kicking himself for not figuring it out sooner.

"I'll give him a call," he says smoothly.

"Please do. We've been talking," he glances over to Bucky with a quick nod, "but Pym's more help, you know, for more practical purposes."

"Agreed." Tony whips out his phone and calls Hank, because he's not going to waste time messing around with the cards. He needs to pull this situation together before Steve is up and about. Bucky's giving him a sort of sideways, unpleasant look.

"Oh, hi!" Hank says, walking through the door. His card is meeping. "Is that you calling me, Tony? I just ran into Jan with some eggs, she gave me the breakdown." He smiles a little bravely, and says, "That must be Bucky Barnes! Hah! Go figure."

Tony blinks at him for a second before recovering. "Just the man we need," he says. "Only a few hours too late, too. Doesn't really matter now, though. We need you to see what you can do with him."

"I'm not a _project,"_ Bucky drawls, leaning against his prison with his metal arm clearly visible. It looks pretty threatening.

"Sure looks like you were somebody's project!" Hank says. "You'll have to let me get a look at that arm while I'm digging around in your head, hah!"

"This is Hank Pym," Bruce tells Bucky. "If you become forced to kill him, at least know it's not your fault and you're not the first to have the urge. He _will_ help you out, though."

"Half this team is scientists who should not speak to anybody," Natasha grumbles.

Bucky gives Natasha a little smile. "Yeah, I can tell. Not sure I trust him enough to have him messing around in my head."

"Yeah?" Tony snaps, but he stops himself before he says, _God, do you want to break Steve's heart; what's wrong with you?_

"Yeah." Bucky is looking at Hank instead of Tony.

"Steve and I will hurt him if he does something not as he should," Natasha says, shrugging.

"And I'm at least smart enough to catch him doing it," Bruce points out.

"Hey!" Hank says. "Why's everybody talking like that? I'm not going to hurt Captain America's _best friend."_

"Even if he's a brainwashed assassin?" Bucky asks, to Tony's surprise. Bucky smirks at them all. "What, you think I don't know what I am? Look, I don't want Cap to keep seeing me like this any more than you all do. Like the scientist said, he's my best friend."

"If you're a brainwashed assassin," Hank says obviously, "that means there's something to clean up in there. That's interesting! Why would I want to hurt you?"

"It's what people do," Bucky says flatly.

"It's what scientists do," Tony agrees. "But Hank won't, and no one else will, either. We're going to do this as gently as we can." He feels deeply weird about talking to Bucky, so he points himself sort of in Natasha's direction.

Bruce is calculating how many people can fit into this room before Bucky loses his grip on reality, and how he could get at least Tony to leave without hurting his feelings and messing up the team dynamic for days.

Bucky laughs. "I really, really don't want your people touching me, Stark. And I sure as hell don't want _you_ touching me. I don't know who you are, but I've never met a Stark I liked."

Tony can't decide whether to be annoyed or feel stupidly pleased the way he always does when someone insults his dad.

"How many's that?" Bruce asks impatiently, and then looks pleadingly at Natasha.

"All right," she says, not loudly, but authoritatively enough that everyone listens. "I am going to meet Jan. I will bring breakfast. There are very many people here, it is too loud for more."

 _Thank you,_ Bruce beams to her.

Tony hesitates, but the he realizes he can't. "Right," he says firmly, "speaking of breakfast, I need to bring some to Steve. Hank, I want you to assess the situation here. Bruce, you've done enough for now, and thanks for that. Go make sure your idiot boyfriend is doing something useful."

"Always getting rid of me," Bruce mumbles as Natasha vanishes from the room, but he means it fondly if anyone's paying attention.

"Great!" says Hank. "I promise, Mr. Barnes, I'll treat you as though you were an ant."

"That's a compliment," Bruce grumbles hopelessly.

Bucky is just staring at Hank. "Okay, pal, I don't know what your problem is." He doesn't sound aggressive, though.

Tony forces himself to be okay with ducking out and letting people do the jobs they need to do. "Good luck," he says. "Don't do anything stupid, and don't let Clint in."

"Hah!" says Hank. "I would never let Clint in. He's the worst thing that could ever happen to a lab. I hope Jan is bringing _me_ some of those eggs."

Tony reminds himself to ask what the hell is wrong--or right--with Hank later. He waves at the whole room and leaves.

Bucky crosses his arms and looks at Hank. "So," he says.

Hank smiles. "Hank Pym," he says again. "I'd shake your hand, but, well. So, you see, my main expertise is with ants, I have a sort of power over them, but neurology and genetics and robotics are all in my repertoire, and I'm known as a pretty fair diagnostician. I'd show you my credentials if I didn't think you'd say they were faked!"

Bucky laughs. "Y'know, you're not like most of the scientists I've met. You don't _hide_ the fact that you're weird. I guess maybe you can take a look at me. To tell you the truth, I just don't want to see the look on Steve's face when I try to kill him again."

"I don't think the look on his face would be your only problem if you succeeded," Hank says. "Captain America was a legend before he came back, you see, and then he turned out to be a living legend--encased in ice? Not likely, is it? And now it's back to worshiping Steve Rogers like the old days. I'd say you're still in people's good graces, too, but I think that'd change if you murdered your old partner. Now: if I'm going to tape a bunch of electrodes to you and go poking around and shining lights in your eyes, how likely on a scale from one to ten are you to try to kill me if you're not tranquilized or tied down?"

"Ten," Bucky says without thinking. He considers. "I dunno, nine. I don't like labs."

"So many people say that," Hank observes. "Well, then, out you go. Ready to go out? Won't take half a minute. Count backwards from ten and don't try to stand up!" He hits several buttons on the control panel by the chamber door.

Bucky tenses up, every damn muscle, even though he knows--thinks he knows--that this is what he wants. He feels dizzy almost immediately and gets as far as, "Hey, let Steve know..." before he passes out.

"Great!" Hank says. He airs out the chamber and then shuts himself inside it to work out restraints. The arm will be an issue.

He calls up to Tony. "Hey, Iron Man, what do you recommend for tying down this arm, down here?"

Tony sighs sharply. He'd forgotten about that, damn it. "Yeah, sorry, slipped my mind. Something heavy-duty. I don't know what it's made of yet, although I have a few guesses, and I don't know what it can do. Use one of those heavy duty clamps that’re stashed in the little lab, at least for now." This is something he can deal with.

"Sure thing!" Hank says cheerfully. "You might work on something a little more specifically tailored later, y'know? From one of your alloys? I would really hate to die!"

"I would hate that, too," Tony says slowly. "Don't worry, that'll be on my list of priorities. I just need to make sure Steve's all squared away. He's finally sleeping, and I want to be here when he wakes up."

"Sure, sure, that has to come first," Hank says. He doesn't mean it at all, but sometimes when people don't give you what you need you just have to deal with what you've got. "All right, I have some tests to run." He signs off, and hunts for the hardware Tony's thinking of. Maybe it’s enough. Maybe not. Hank really hopes not to die today, for any cause.

On the other hand, he fully expects whatever is in Bucky Barnes's head to be interesting enough for a little risk.


	4. loki would like a little holiday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He can never tell what Loki will do in one of these moods.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Warnings: Loki is still crazy

"I need a vacation," Loki says abruptly. "That's what they call it, yes? You leave home and do things for your own amusement? I would like one of those."

Loki is tossing an apple hand to hand in a chair by the fire, switching bodies fast enough that Victor can't know which one he'll see any time he glances over. Loki is restless.

Loki is making Victor anxious. He can never tell what Loki will do in one of these moods.

"A vacation?" he repeats. "What were you thinking? America, I assume?" That's where Loki seems to get the most amusement.

"Don't make me feel predictable," Loki chides, shifting a leg. "I haven't been there at all lately; though it seems like an unnecessarily embargo. After all, I didn't _die_ last time, and by now Thor has probably forgotten to be angry with me. He is a soft heart and a softer head," Loki concludes in satisfaction.

"You're unbelievably attractive when you get all restless and nasty," Victor says, laughing. "If it helps, I have no idea what you're planning." No specifics, at any rate. The outline seems to always have to do with Thor.

"That's because I don't know either," Loki says delightedly. "I need a day to collect material. Will you be too lonely? You could always go and see your beloved Reed Richards, I suppose, or groom a peasant."

Victor regards Loki sourly. "I do not know which is a less attractive prospect." He's glad Loki is leaving the castle, though. Having Loki sitting here in a mood like this is like touching firecrackers.

"You could teach the peasants to groom themselves," Loki suggests, getting up. "You could send a Doombot to Reed Richards."

Victor frowns. "Mm. Not an entirely unappealing prospect. I think he'd know the difference, though." He gets up, too, and goes to Loki, laying a hand on Loki's arm. "Do look after yourself."

Loki raises an eyebrow. " _Naturally."_ There's no Loki left to hold onto the moment Victor's attention shifts.

~

Loki reappears at dinner, practically cackling.

"Victor," he says, face lighting up. "Do you _know_ what they _have?"_

"Calm down before you have a heart attack," Victor says, but he's listening. Loki may be a little manic today, but that makes the information no less valuable. "I assume you mean the Avengers?"

"Oh, yes," Loki says. He perches himself on the table, at Victor's place. "They have Steve Rogers' dead lover."

Victor raises his eyebrows. "Oh," he breathes. "Oh, you're going to be able to really hurt them with that. In almost any way you want." It's satisfying that the Avengers have so many weaknesses.

Loki frowns, in interest, not in anger. "Did you know he was alive?" he asks. "He's a mess now, Victor, he really is."

"You almost sound concerned," Victor says, smiling. "I'd heart rumors, but I didn't believe them. You know how certain communities love to talk." He doesn't get along well with any of Captain America's aging band of Nazi foes, but they sometimes try to talk to him.

Loki ignores the insult. "He's a pathetic thing, poor boy, except he's a monster, too. The two ideas thrash around in his head like fighting dogs. It's so ugly, and the _Avengers_ hardly know where to start." He leans back on his hands. "He's half likely to kill them without my interference. But I do so want to interfere."

"Of course you do." Victor rolls his eyes. "Well, I would hardly stop you. Even people so prone to destruction can use a little help."

Victor keeps his thoughts about beings who consider themselves pathetic monsters to himself.

"Oh, Victor," Loki says mistily, "it is nice to have someone to talk to, isn't it?" This time he leaves before Victor can answer.


	5. bucky barnes and the big bad wolf

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The wolf laughs, which is disconcerting, and probably not something that the wolves in Russia did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Notes: brainwashed Bucky, mind games, transphobia

Bucky is alone for awhile after the kooky scientist finishes his tests, which gives him time to pace and stare out of his cage and map all the stuff in the room without anyone (that he can see) watching him.

When he turns away from the glass on time, though, there's a wolf sitting on his cot like a sphinx. It's not a very big wolf. Unless it is. It's hard to tell.

Considering it's about five feet away, it's big enough.

"Shit," he whispers. Either he's going nuts or--no, he must be, because there's no way that thing could have gotten into his cage. He reaches for his gun and then remembers, with the motion half completed, that he doesn't have one. Because he's a lab rat.

Instead, he edges a little closer and whispers, "Easy..." He could probably kill it with his bare hands, with a little help from the metal one. If it's real.

The wolf flicks its tail in either amusement or irritation.

"I hear humans care greatly about their calendars," it says, as though they're already talking. "Do _you_ know what year you are in, little morsel?"

Bucky shies away without meaning to. He doesn't feel like he's losing it, not more than usual, but he's not a great judge of that.

"I don't think he said," he mutters, like the thing deserves a rational answer.

"Ah!" the wolf says. It licks its chops. "Would you like to know? Or are you frightened?"

"I spent some time in Russia," Bucky says slowly, remembering. "I saw bigger wolves than you. I'm not going to let you get the best of me, pal." But he doesn't want to hear the answer, really.

The wolf laughs, which is disconcerting, and probably not something that the wolves in Russia did. It stands up, and on four feet it is suddenly, somehow, much larger.

"The year of the calendar measuring your dead god," the wolf says, "is two thousand eleven."

Bucky shudders and takes another step back. "That's...later than I thought. But nothin' I can't handle." He shuts his eyes and wishes for a second he could will the Winter Solider back. He wonders if there's a way to call for help.

"Of course," the wolf says. "You're the Winter Soldier now. You can handle anything you're told to handle."

Bucky's lip curls in a sneer that might be his. "That's only part of who I am, buddy. Think you can handle Bucky Barnes?" He doesn't mean to be arguing with an imaginary wolf.

The wolf climbs off the cot, regarding him coolly. "Does it matter?" the wolf asks. It glances around significantly. "You did not see me come in by the door, did you?"

"Which just means I'm imagining this and you can't hurt me anyway," Bucky says stubbornly, but he's terrified. He's heard of and seen things now that he would have called bullshit when he was a kid.

The wolf practically leers. "Have you seen a lot of Steve down here in your cage?" it asks.

"He's _asleep,"_ Bucky snaps, but he has no way of knowing if that's still true. Probably not. Probably he's staying well away. Good.

"Yes," the wolf agrees. "With someone watching him."

"Creepy," Bucky says, trying to be flip, but his stomach sinks. It would figure if Steve...

"You're being watched as well," the wolf says. "Or you were before I came. You're both being watched by the same eyes."

Bucky is practically pressed up against the wall now, and he hates it. "The house, you mean," he says slowly.

"No," says the wolf. "The master."

Bucky makes a small sound in the back of his throat and feels stupid and scared for doing it. "Stark," he says hoarsely.

"He is dangerous," the wolf says. "He is powerful, and he is frightened of losing his power."

"Yeah," Bucky says. "Kinda noticed. I'm not stupid. I think I can take down some old man, though." He assessed Stark in the few minutes he had to watch him. In good condition, but not as good at Bucky. Smart, but not smart enough to kill Bucky on sight.

"Because he is your captor?" the wolf asks. "Or because of Steve?"

Bucky frowns. "Huh?" He genuinely doesn't know what the hell the wolf is talking about, and he feels derailed.

"You do not think this the first night the master has watched your partner sleep?" the wolf says, as if offended by Bucky's stupidity.

"He's a _creep,"_ Bucky says viciously. "And if Steve needs me to get him off his back, I can." He's scared now, though. For all new reasons.

The wolf laughs, more loudly than before. It's awful. "Steve likes him on his back," it says. "But do what you must."

"SHUT UP!" Bucky screams, throwing himself at the wolf before he knows what he's doing. Everything is numb and nightmarish.

The wolf rears up into hugeness and swipes him back with a paw. "Stupid puppy!" it snarls, and then calms, the skin of its back twitching away some itch or annoyance. "You cannot expect a human to remain faithful to someone who is dead."

Bucky is shaking, half rage and half fear. "He's my partner," he says numbly, stupidly. "He's my partner."

"He was your partner," the wolf says calmly, tucking its tail around its paws. "Now that men like him may walk in the daylight, he can choose from many. He chose somebody else."

"The future, huh?" Bucky says softly. Even if this is a nightmare, it's not that far-out. "You're telling me in this new world where we're allowed to be us, he went on without me?" He still can't really picture that. He doesn't want to try.

"He met Stark so soon after he woke up," the wolf says. Names sound stranger coming from it than any other words. "Perhaps he was just grateful. Perhaps that is why he settled for such a creature."

Bucky feels paranoid, shaky, ready to jump out of his skin at every new blow from the wolf's mouth.

"Yeah," he whispers. "Yeah, I knew I didn't like him. I don't want him touching my--Steve."

"What _do_ you think he's doing now?" the wolf asks scathingly. "Ah, well. Poor mortal pup. It is a pity such a scheming, pathetic monster has taken ownership of your--partner."

Bucky feels sick and unreal, or like everyone else is. "What _is_ he?" he whispers. "Why does Steve _want_ that?"

"It is very odd," the wolf agrees, and stands up to pace. "I do not understand age as mortals do, but Stark is old, is he not? Old for your friend. And--granted, I do not understand these boundaries you mortals set for yourselves either, but, I am not sure what makes Stark a _man._ Perhaps you can explain? They used to call him something else."

Bucky, pressed against the wall of the cage, stills. "What? What are you talking about?" He wouldn't be surprised if Stark turned out to be some kind of evil android, given what he's seen.

The wolf looks (if this is possible) consternated. "Stark's father used to call him _daughter,"_ he says. "But I do not understand why that would be."

Bucky whistles, low and distressed. "Now, there's a fact," he says harshly. "And Steve knows that, huh? He's gone and hooked himself up with a monster without me to watch his back." Something in the back of his head that's more Bucky Barnes than Winter Solider says _hey, no, come on,_ but he's so paranoid about Stark now that he can't think past it. Stark feels like a monster, whatever the reasons are.

The wolf chuckles. "If there is anything to know, I promise you that Steve Rogers knows it. He and the master of the house have not been shy with each other's bodies."

Bucky gives a strangled cry and hits the wall with his metal hand. To his surprise, it shudders a little.

"Guess Stark didn't build this thing to handle me," he whispers.

"He is proud," the wolf agrees. "Things go the way he requires them to. Will you go the way he requires? I expect once he knows what you can do he will be the next to put you in cold storage, if he does not kill you outright."

Bucky knows this, with as much certainty as he knows anything. "Then I'll kill him first," he whispers. "I can break out of here. I know I can." He doesn't even know who he is now, but he knows that he wants to stalk the halls of this cold, robotic mansion until he finds the master and destroys him.

"Perhaps," the wolf says. "Perhaps not. You are weakened. They have not fed you, have they?"

Bucky remembers breakfast and that he never got it. "No," he says. "No, they knocked me out, instead. I. I want to talk to Steve."

The wolf huffs and lies down, its nose on its paws. "Don't know why you think they'll let you see him," it mumbles.

"I can get _someone_ to come see me," Bucky says a little wildly. He feels like maybe he's the only person in the world right now. He feels like maybe he's going crazy. He strides over the to bed and gives it a kick. "If I wreck this cell, someone will come."

"Do you want them to?" the wolf asks curiously.

Bucky blinks at him. "Yeah. Yeah, I do. If I want to get out of here, I need someone to open the cell." Or maybe he just needs someone to set him straight. He can't tell. Mostly, he wants to see Stark.

"I can open the door," the wolf offers, "if you want _out,_ and not just to be placated in your cage."

 _No,_ Bucky thinks. "Yes," he says.

The wolf stands up and pads over to the door. It noses the seal around the edge, and there's a small puff of what looks like electrical discharge. The door swings open.

"Mortal things," the wolf shrugs.

Bucky still doesn't know how much of this is real. His skin is slick with sweat and he feels off-balance when he walks over to the door.

"Thanks," he says. "I guess." _Thanks for ruining everything._

The wolf trots to keep up with him. "Don't thank me," the wolf says. "You'll owe me if you thank me. Sometimes the best I have to do with a day is set a mortal straight. I can't stand a mess, you know."

Bucky snorts like he doesn't believe it and walks out of the lab with the wolf following behind. He heads what he thinks is the right way--up.

"Hey," he says when they reach the elevator, "who are you, anyway? You know, if you're anyone."

"I am Wolf," says the wolf in surprise. "I am what gods do when they haven't anything better, and no one still asks them any favors."

Bucky smiles. "My kind of animal. Thanks for the truth, anyway. You probably don't want to stick around and see what I do."

The wolf makes a low moaning sound in its throat. "Oh, little morsel, I do," it says. "But I do not wish to be seen by many. So I will go. But," it says wistfully, "if there is carnage, perhaps I will come back and take a peek?"

"Oh," Bucky says in an awful, low voice, "there will be." And he starts up the stairs.

The wolf waves its tail and watches him go, panting.

This is the best god he has ever been.


	6. bucky and tony have a little chat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's blood on Tony's chin and tears down Bucky's face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Warnings: a little violence, transphobic/homophobic language, crazy Bucky

Tony is giving Steve some space (that is what Steve said, was _Tony I need about half an hour of space)_ by pacing around his apartment in a state of high anxiety. He feels like he's about to fly right out the window, which is never exactly a great thing to feel, and like he should be doing more to _fix things._ If that's what he really wants. He can't decide if he wishes Bucky were okay or that he just didn't exist. This is a nightmare.

It doesn't take Bucky too long to find the right room. The assassin training kicks in and his paranoia helps him avoid people. Besides, the place is pretty empty.

He still feels like he's being watched, though. Like the freakish master of this monster house can see and hear everything he's doing.

He finds the right door after about ten minutes of searching. He's still only armed with his bare hands, but that's all he wants. The door isn't locked when he turns the handle.

"The door," JARVIS says, and Tony jumps, head swiveling towards it as the handle turns.

 _No_ more _warning?_ he wonders, but there's no time to be annoyed at bad security system calibrations.

"Steve?" he asks, but Steve would have knocked. He always knocks.

Bucky laughs, a low chuckle that doesn't make him sound very sane. "Steve," he repeats, stepping into the room. "Steve isn't here. I figured you'd know that, being the master with eyes everywhere and all."

Tony feels himself go pale. "Bucky," he says. "Hey. You got out after all. Did you hurt anyone to do it?"

"Didn't need to," Bucky says hazily. "Just walked right out of my cage and into your control box. Because that's what this is, huh? The place you hole up to pull the strings?"

"What?" Tony says. "I don't--what kind of strings do you think I'm pulling? I just run the computer because it's my house and I'm good at that stuff. Hey, are you all right or is this when," _you kill me_ is what nearly comes out, but he should not be _pushing._

"I'm all right," Bucky says in the voice of someone who is not all right. "Is Steve? Is he doing okay? I'm guessing the answer's no if he's fucking around with a monster like you."

Tony says, "I don't know what you're talking about." He feels cold, and about a hundred miles away. "Listen, Steve is fine." He doesn't know how to reassure Bucky without telling him where Steve is--in case it doesn't work.

On the other hand, Bucky found _him_ all right.

"I'm not hurting anybody," Tony says. "Who told you I was?"

"Wouldn't believe me if I told you, sunshine," Bucky says, taking a few steps closer. "Maybe you haven't hurt him yet, but I think you probably took a little advantage when he came out of that ice, huh? He's easy to confuse. Why else would he fall for something like you?" He shakes his head to clear it of the clicking worry that this is not all right.

Tony knows this kind of language. This is the kind of shit people say when they _know._

The second he realizes that, he finds himself choking up.

 _Don't panic,_ he commands himself. _Don't panic, don't panic._ Speaking of panic, JARVIS has a console on the wall just behind him. He can probably get to it before Bucky attacks him, at least. Everyone will be warned that he's--

Tony doesn't know what he'll do when Bucky makes a move. He's clearly going to. And they're both unarmed--but Bucky doesn't need another weapon. He's got one attached.

Tony backs up a step.

"I fucking worshiped him," Tony says, "growing up. I wouldn't hurt him. I wouldn't take advantage."

"A lot of people say that," Bucky hisses, taking a step closer and to the side. He wants to cut Stark off from anything that might be useful. "A lot of people think Captain America is pretty great. And every single one of them ended up using him for advertising or a shield or politics. You're not any different. You're just something he's clinging to so he can pretend he's not a fag."

Tony makes a hurt noise, but it's followed by a feeling of, _oh, to hell with this._

"He _is_ a fag," Tony says furiously, "and he _knows_ it." He swings a punch at Bucky's jaw.

Bucky's not expecting it, so he moves slowly and Tony's first catches the edge of his jaw. He recovers and hits back, with the metal fist.

Tony ends up on the floor with his ears ringing and his lip bleeding. He gets his weight on his arms and says sharply, "Snap out of it. Even if Bucky Barnes is mad at me, he's not about to kill me. You're just letting the Winter Soldier win because you're pissed. Get pissed, _fine,_ but you're copping out and you're going to regret it."

Something is _not right._ Instead of feeling nightmarish, everything feels too real, now. Bucky didn't expect Stark to talk like this.

"I don't think I’m..." But he realizes he doesn't know who he is. He needs a hint.

"Bucky," Tony says. He's got to keep it calm, he's got to keep control. He is really going to die, in all likelihood, if he doesn't distract Bucky from killing him, and that would not make Steve feel better. "Hey. You don't know me yet, and maybe you're going to hate my guts once you do, but I'm _not your hit._ Nobody's your hit."

"It's not that," Bucky says unsteadily. He doesn't know why he's trying to explain himself to this...guy. "The wolf made you sound like a monster." He nudges Stark with his toe.

"What the fuck?" Tony says blankly. "I've gotten monster before, but kid, I have no idea what you're talking about. What _wolf?"_

Now Bucky's just flat-out scared, and he isn't even really sure why. "The wolf, the wolf in my cell," he says. "It opened the door. It told me what you are and what you're doing with Steve."

"Um," Tony says. His brain is buzzing with too many pieces of information at once. All of it's vital, it's dangerous, he needs to sort it out but he can't pause and think about it. "W-what do you mean it opened the door?" he says, stalling. Least dangerous question, he hopes. "It was a wolf."

"With--magic or something," Bucky says uncertainly. "Electric. Something. Oh, god, I'm losing my mind. None of that is even true, is that it?"

"Er," says Tony. "So this wolf. How did it--get in?"

Bucky frowns and kicks Stark (who winces), because he feels like he should do something. Then he says, "It was just there. Um. It told me you can see everything and you used to be a girl and you're fucking Steve and you're evil." Sort of, mostly, close enough. "I made it all up, didn't I?"

Well, that's a hard question to answer when you're on the floor being gently savaged by a crazy guy with some attachment issues.

"First of all, I don't see everything," Tony says. "Actually considering how much tech is built into this place, it's amazing how much video surveillance I _don't_ have. Um. I shouldn't have told you that. Clearly, because look at the mood you're in. But seriously, I'm not a pervert, and I don't _spy_ on my own team."

"Nnn," Bucky says, shaking his head. "I can feel myself being watched." On second thought, maybe he's just fucking insane. This guy doesn't look like he could do much damage right now, anyway. He doesn't know how he feels about that.

"Well, there's a camera in the lab," Tony admits. "But Hank agreed to that, because he's always doing dangerous things. And sometimes we can't find him other ways," he adds.

They're not talking about the important part. "But what about Steve?" Bucky asks. "He said--he said we'd work this through together. What did he mean by that? What do you think he meant?"

"Oh, God," Tony says unhappily. "It's up to him, okay? You--you can't ask me. You have to ask him."

Bucky rubs his arms until he remembers he can't feel one of them and stops. "Yeah," he says. "Okay. I guess that's kind of an answer."

"Okay," Tony says back, tentatively relieved. "Can I get up now?"

"Yeah," Bucky says, and to his horror, he realizes he's about to cry. Nothing is how he thought it was, not when this day started and not after his conversation with the wolf.

Tony gets carefully to his feet. "Hey," he says. "Hey. You've had a really shitty day. Preceded by--a bunch of shitty time. Do you want something to drink? Or a snack or something?"

"I don't know," Bucky says, and now he is crying. "I don't know, I don't know, I don't know, I want my boyfriend back..." Even as he says it, he realizes that's maybe not what he's most upset about. He just wants Steve _here._ Or some sleep and some answers. Or a sense of reality.

"Shit," says Tony raggedly. "Shit. Just--hold on, okay?" He eases over to the wall where the console is and calls down to Steve. Steve answers after a couple chirps.

"Tony? I just got out of the shower."

"Come up, please," Tony says. "Bucky's here. He wants you."

That's too true. That's horrifyingly true. This is going to be so ugly. That fucking wolf was right about everything.

"On my way," Steve says, and disconnects.

Bucky wipes his eyes, but it doesn't help. He's still crying like a stupid kid, but he's so grateful that Steve's coming that he can't stop.

"Hey," Tony says again, waving his hand around because he wants to put it on Bucky's shoulder and he knows that's an awful idea. "Hey, it'll be--"

All right is a bad thing to promise.

Luckily it isn't long before Steve shows up. He comes in the door (after knocking), and Tony is so relieved and terrified and guilty and angry that he feels like he might throw up.

"Oh, hey," he says, and sort of gestures at Bucky like maybe Steve couldn't see for himself where his best friend is standing.

"Steve," is all Bucky can say. It's like he forgot what Steve looked like, although he didn't.

"Hi, Buck," Steve says. There's blood on Tony's chin and tears down Bucky's face. "Jesus, I'm the only person who's going to be pretty by the end of the day."

"Oh, thank God," Bucky breathes. "You're still you." He collapses against Steve's chest and clings, not caring who Steve is dating or not in this moment, just wanting to feel something solid.

Steve huffs out a little hurt breath and grabs back, hugging him tightly enough that he feels Bucky's bones shift.

"And you're you," he murmurs. "Thanks for not hurting Tony. What happened?'

Bucky takes a deep breath. "A wolf came into my cell and let me out. It told me Stark--It told me Tony was some kind of monster who was taking you away from me." It comes out all jagged and wrong, but it's a start.

"Oh," says Steve. He glances over at Tony, who must know this already and agree with at least some of it because he looks guilty and miserable. "Well. Tony's not a monster. And I'm not--I'm not going away from you again. But I..." He glances at Tony again, which doesn't help, and then catches Bucky's eye.

"I saw you die," he says. "I--" he shakes his head. "That's not fair. That's an unfair way to say it. I mean to say I _am_ dating Tony, that’s what I mean. I wanted to tell you when I...I didn't know when it wouldn't hurt too much. You know, if I'm not overstating my own importance."

It hurts. It hurts less than Bucky thought it might, because it's _Steve,_ and he makes everything hurt less. But it doesn't feel good.

"Oh," Bucky says. "Uh. Thanks for saying." He's going to have to readjust how he's been thinking about a few things, but he doesn't feel murderous or anything, which is surprising.

"I'll be okay," he says, and he directs it at both Steve and Tony. "I think I lost it for a few minutes there."

"Uh," says Tony, "yeah." He still isn't sure if he can feel relieved, but he almost feels relieved. Less guilty, anyway, maybe, for the moment. "If it makes you feel any better, I don't think your wolf was an illusion." He looks at Steve. "I think it was probably Loki."

Steve says, after a pause, "I do feel for Thor, and all, but I _really_ dislike his brother."

Bucky doesn't know what most of that means, besides the fact that he's _not insane,_ and that makes a lot. He shuts his eyes in relief and lets out a breath. "I can work with that," he says, mostly to himself.

"The Norse god, Thor?" Tony offers. "He's on our team! That's pretty good, right? Bruce is--um. Bruce is dating him, and Thor's brother Loki is an evildoer and keeps coming around to hurt Thor's friends because Thor hurt his feelings. Great fun."

Steve squeezes Bucky's shoulder, the whole one. "Thank you," he says. "It doesn't mean I haven't missed the hell out of you."


	7. thor wishes bucky was a little more delusional

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Our team is unusual. But we have kind hearts."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Warnings: none!

They get a Bucky a proper meal, a shower, and proper clothes without incident, and then Tony sits him down in the room he broke out of the first time to wait for Thor to show up.

"If it _was_ Loki, Thor might recognize him from what you told us. We'll want to get on that fast, too, so--sooner the better. And anyway, Hank's still compiling all the data he yanked out of you." Tony smiles to show he's on Bucky's side (which he is, basically, that is pretty much a side he's on), and tries not to look nervous or overtired. "He should be here any second."

"Great," says Bucky uncertainly. He feels better, clean and fed. He feels more human, anyway, and his head is all right. He keeps getting the sense that Stark ( _Tony)_ is talking about a friend of his, except it's a god. He isn't sure he's as all right as he feels.

Thor, although he hasn't slept much (it turns out he sleeps worse with Bruce gone, now), is anxious to be doing something useful, so he hurries to the lab as quickly as he can when Tony calls.

He pushes open the door and gives both Tony and Bucky a wide smile. "Greetings, friends. How can I help?" They both look all right.

"Thor!" Tony says, perking up. Then he tries to look less perky, because that's like saying he is afraid of being in the same room with Bucky and he doesn't want to have a conversation with _him._ "Um, Bucky got a visit _in his room_ earlier, and I wanted you to talk to him about it and see if there's any chance that it was Loki."

"You keep saying that," Bucky says, "but you gotta be kidding. That guy sure as hell ain't _Thor._ You know, like the _god."_

Thor brightens. He's already had this conversation dozens of times. He can easily have it again. Then he's going to have to have one about Loki, and that will be harder.

"But I am Thor," he says, smiling at Bucky. "God of Thunder. Few believe me when I first tell them, but by the time you finish telling me about seeing my brother, I may be able to convince you."

"I'd like to leave you both to it," Tony says. "You already told me once and I don't want to screw up your telling by being here. We want all the facts as well as you can give them. Do you think you'll be all right with Thor?"

"I don't know," Bucky says. He's a little alarmed at being left alone with yet another stranger, but it's becoming a pattern at this point. "At least if he is who he says he is I won't be able to kill him that easy. You know, if I have the urge."

Thor's smile doesn't waver. "I am extremely hard to kill. The only people who've come close are members of my family. So have no fear." He sits down outside Bucky's cage. "You should go, Tony. You've done a lot today already, if what Bruce says is true." He's being what Bruce would probably call tactful. He's practicing that.

"Thanks," Tony says. "Call up to me if there's anything you need, though, okay?"

"Of course," Thor says, having no intention of needing to do so. He waits until Tony's gone to turn to Bucky again. "Well then, young Bucky! Tell me your tale." He's inclined to like Bucky, given what Bruce has told him.

"Hey, you mentioned Bruce," Bucky says. "I met that guy. He seems good. Did he ever get any real sleep, do you know? I feel bad about keeping everybody like that."

People who care about Bruce automatically get extra marks in Thor's book. "He did," he says. "I made him sleep after he left the lab today. Don't feel too bad, though. He often does things like that."

"Ohhh," Bucky says. "So are you the--are you and he...?" He thinks Tony mentioned it, but everything’s a little muddled.

"Boyfriends," Thor says firmly and happily. "Yes. That's what you say in Midgard, anyhow."

"Not where I came from," Bucky mutters. "Uh, but I'm supposed to tell you about the wolf."

Thor nods, feeling his heart sink. "He likes wolves. Well, go on. I'll probably know."

"It was sitting there," Bucky points to his cot, "when I turned around. A while after Mr. Pym had left. I didn't hear it come in, I don't know how it got in."

"He can do that," Thor says gently. "He's a god, like me." He remembers with the same little shock as always that that's not quite true.

Bucky frowns. "This was a _wolf,"_ he says. "I mean, it wasn't a man. It was big, though. I think it was bigger sometimes?"

Thor sighs. "He can do that, too. He's a very powerful...magician, I suppose you would say. And he has a wolf for a child, so perhaps that was why he chose it. But he's never appeared in that form before, despite his penchant for changing shape."

"Oh," Bucky says with a laugh. "Right. Because you're both gods. And your brother is the god of mischief. Right?"

"Yes," Thor says. "And he's especially prone to causing mischief to me and my friends of late. What manner did he cause you?" Tony hadn't told him any details, worryingly.

"Nothing that’ll disprove your story," Bucky acknowledges. "He, uh--I'm not all clear, even though I've been thinking about it. But he said a lot of shit about Tony and Steve. He was right in saying they're an item, I don't know about..." Voicing that new fact hurts after he's said it. It'll be okay, he thinks, it'll be _okay._ But it's only been a couple of hours and he can't be blamed for that little voice going _he never let you call it dating._ Can he?

Thor nods. If he understands rightly, Bucky is probably feeling heartbroken right now. "He would do that," he says gently. "He likes to hurt people with the truth even more than he likes to lie."

"Huh," says Bucky. "Then is it true Stark's some kinda girl?"

"No," Thor says firmly. "Although I understand his ability to change is a fairly new idea in Midgard, so perhaps to your mind, he used to be." _In Asgard,_ Thor thinks, _Things are simpler._

"Huh," says Bucky. "All right. So that was kind of true anyway. Oh, and then it convinced me Steve was abandoning me and I was in prison and I should kill everybody, and then it opened the door. Which I thought was pretty nice of it, at the time."

"Odin's blood," Thor whispers. He knew Loki was going to do something, but he didn't know how bad it was going to be. Driving a new ally nearly mad and trying to get him to murder Thor's friends is...not something Thor can excuse, anyhow. "I see," he says softly. "I believe that was him, yes."

"He knew what would bother me the most," Bucky says uncomfortably. His hands feel sweaty. He presses them together. "Told me I was being watched. Told me Tony was seducing Steve, I guess, basically. I--I think I just wanted someone to come calm me down, until he opened the door for me. He didn't have any hands, how does that make sense?"

Thor feels sick. His brother, his little brother, has made someone feel this way. He should have acted as soon as Loki attacked Bruce, but he was too much of a coward.

"His magic rivals that of any of the other Aesir or any Jotun living," he says. "He needs no hands. His forms are many and ever-changing. His powers are uncounted. He's just so angry and afraid." He didn't mean to say the last part.

Bucky swallows. "Didn't seem that way to me, buddy. Seemed pretty content to screw heads on wrong all day. And it had one hell of a creepy laugh." He shudders.

"He's also mad," Thor says flatly. His hands are shaking, so he curls them into fists.

Bucky backs up from the wall. "Some family you got there," he says. "Listen, it isn't like much bad happened." He flushes and stares at his feet. "I mean, too bad. I bloodied Stark up a little, but he--he didn't get to me any more than that. I mean I'm a pretty easy mark, I'm pretty messed up too, but I didn't kill nobody. So there's that." For him or for that monster? Bucky's not certain who he's trying to reassure about what.

"You could have," Thor says, steel in his voice. "You could have killed my friend, and it's my fault. I should have stopped Loki when he attacked Bruce."

"Oh," says Bucky. He didn't know about that. He doesn't know what he's allowed to say. Thor, the fucking God of Thunder, is looking murderous on the other side of a wall he knows he could break though himself. "It might not have been him," he offers. "It only called itself Wolf." But something about gods, it had said that too.

This is new, and Thor doesn't know quite what it means. "He doesn't usually do things like that," he says. "But if my brother is anything, it is unpredictable. At the very least I should go to him and discover the truth. Then I can take action. He used you. I apologize."

"I'm sorry I almost killed your friend," Bucky says. He means _I'm sorry I'm so easily controlled._ He's humiliated and horrified. Thor looks too distracted to care. "I'll be more thorough next--" Bucky starts, and catches himself breathlessly right before time.

Thor blinks. "Do you--? Ah. Yes, they said you were like this. Is there anything I can do?" Loki preyed on a brainwashed, confused, half-mad young man. He is not going to escape punishment this time.

"No," Bucky says harshly, and kicks at a wall. It hurts his toe but he doesn't care. _Like this._ How he is. A freak. A weapon. "That's what Pym is for, right? Replace all the old mad scientists with a new one? I don't think there's a spot on the roster for a bleeding-heart god with a psycho brother who dresses up like a dog."

"A wolf," Thor says a little absently. "I'm sorry. I realize this is a very strange situation to come into. Our team is unusual. But we have kind hearts." He means it as an invitation, a show of safety.

Bucky drops into his chair and tries not to sob with frustration and sudden pent-up feeling. "Yeah, you're all good," he says bitterly. "What the hell am I doing here then, y'know?"

"Someday I should tell you tales of my youth in Asgard," Thor says. He pulls his chair closer to Bucky's cage. "Or of Tony's former career. Bruce's other half. We've all been monstrous."

"That's supposed to make me trust you?" Bucky cries. "Jesus! I feel like I'm crawling with bugs and, and oil. Everything’s so damn slippery. If they're so good at fixing monsters, anyway, why haven't they fixed your little scared brother instead of letting him screw around with people like this?"

Thor doesn't have an answer; he's too distressed by what's in front of him. "I'm sorry," he whispers. "We're not perfect. We're still trying. Someday perhaps we _will_ find a way to fix Loki." But he doesn't believe that, not anymore.

"Oh, no," Bucky says. "I'm sorry. I just keep not getting to make the choices, you know? I mean, I was raised in the army. I know about the chain of command. But this ain't that. This is just a chain. And I never know who's yanking at it."

"I promise you," Thor says, "as someone who has never been in your position, I will still do everything in my power to make sure this team and the people on it never use you. And to repair what my brother has done."

"Well, shit," Bucky says quietly. "I keep not wanting to believe you all, I mean, a part of me doesn't want to, the part that wants to kill everybody, but you make it pretty darn hard to doubt your sincerity. I don't know if you can do it, but I--I appreciate your trying." It's a little bit too much, actually. He' practically forgotten what anything but _good dog bad dog here's your next target_ could sound like.

"I will keep trying," Thor says with authority. "I promise you. For now, rest, and try to trust us at least a little. I am going to Latveria." He doesn't know what he's going to say when he gets there, but he's not going to waste time talking it through with the team this time.

"Doom's place?" Bucky asks, and is startled, because he doesn't know how he knows that.

"Yes," Thor says, frowning. "You know of Doom?"

"Apparently," Bucky says.

Thor nods. Hopefully sympathetically. "If nothing else, we can help you recover your mind. And Loki will pay for what he's done to you and the others." _Somehow,_ he thinks frantically.

"Thanks for that," Bucky says. "Although to tell you the truth I don't think I've got the stomach for justice, exactly, just now. I hate to think what would happen to me if people started dishing it out where it belongs."

"If we all got what we deserved..." Thor starts. "But no. Not justice. A preventive measure. He will not stop here, especially since no one was truly hurt." He shivers and thinks of what Loki could do next. He cannot imagine, which makes it worse.

Bucky nods. He's exhausted all of a sudden, even though this hasn't been nearly the excruciating debriefing he was expecting. "You want to know any more about the wolf? I mean, Loki?" he asks.

"If there is more to tell," Thor says. "You say he seemed cheerful? Truly cheerful, or..." He doesn't know how to describe the way Loki gets when he's upset and smiling.

"Naw," Bucky says. "Calm. Cool. I guess in a good mood, but I mean, it was a wolf. He did say--something before he left?"

"What did he say?" Thor asks haltingly. He feels numb. Loki, happy. That's something he rarely sees, and _never_ since the day the Bifrost broke. Is he going to have to ruin that?

"Something about..." Bucky struggles to remember. "Something about having nothing better to do, because no one asks him favors anymore. Well, and he said he'd come back and see, if I did any carnage."

Thor sighs. "Thank you. I should leave you to rest, I think. I must see what masks my brother has been wearing and why."

"Good luck," Bucky says, and then laughs. "Good luck to the god of thunder. I don't even know what to say about that."

"Good luck is kind enough," Thor says, smiling. "Thank you." He gives Bucky a little wave and leaves the lab and building before anyone can ask questions.

Bucky waits for whoever wants to talk to him next, and hopes it's not the wolf.


	8. steve and bucky (for real) get to talk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Bucky Barnes," Steve says. "I hope to God you're not even harboring the thought that I'd ever not want you around."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Warnings: Reference to transphobia

Bucky gets restless pretty fast. He's never been a fan of small cells, and this one's getting old already. Plus he expects to see something that can't be real every time he turns around. Talking to a fucking _god_ didn't help, even though the guy was pretty down-to-Earth. He just wants to see a real person again. He's having trouble judging how fast time is passing.

Steve is anxious about going down there, but Tony finally tells him to go see if Thor's done talking to Bucky about the wolf, and if he’s done to hang around and chat with Bucky, please, while he's at it, and that lets him go.

When he enters the lab, Thor isn't there, and Bucky is pacing.

"Hi, Buck," Steve says tentatively. "Thor's gone?"

Bucky comes to a halt. He was starting to get crazy again, so he's really glad to see Steve. Now he just needs to keep his mouth shut and not say anything mean or dangerous.

"Yeah," he says. "I guess it was his brother after all. You know this all sounds like bullshit to me, right?"

"It's weird," Steve agrees. "The future was hard to come to grips with. For me, I mean. But Norse gods? Sometimes I still think that's probably just one of those common knowledge things that's really just nonsense."

Bucky laughs. "Same old Steve," he says, not sure how true that is. "So, listen. About...stuff." He doesn't know if he's allowed to name it now.

Steve looks at him with what he knows is a terrible crestfallen expression, and then ducks his head and rubs his face with his hand.

"Any stuff you want first?" he asks. "Or do you want me to pick?"

Steve looks older, Bucky thinks. Sounds it, too. But he's still not great at big talks.

"Guess I knew it was never gonna last past the end of the war," he offers.

"Oh, Buck," Steve says, voice breaking. He clears his throat and sits down. "I was a coward back then. I--there was a lot more to be afraid of, but you weren't ever scared of it. I'm sorry I didn't figure out it was okay until it was too late."

"Bad timing, huh?" Bucky says roughly, but he's not even mad. He can't be mad at Steve. "Just my luck. I wake up and you've found someone nicer. Probably could have figured on that one, too."

"He's not _nicer,"_ Steve says into his hands. "I just--I know it's not fair, Buck, I know nothing about this is fair and I'm sorry, but you were _dead,_ and he was the first person who really made me feel like I wasn't dead too."

That's a surprise, and it stops Bucky halfway to the bitter little rage he's working himself into.

"So he's taking care of you okay?" he asks quietly. "I know you don't think you need it, but you do." _Even though it's my job,_ he adds silently.

"Yeah," Steve says, and it's true, too. Maybe it wasn't at first, but the less anxious Tony seems to be about himself, the more he takes care of Steve. "Yeah, he does. He needs me, too." Steve shrugs and gives a self-deprecating little grin. "You know how I feel about being a force for good."

Bucky smiles automatically and then realizes he means it. Steve happy is a thing he wants. Maybe the biggest thing he's ever wanted. So maybe he can learn to stop feeling miserable and left behind.

"I'm glad," he says. "So, you still being Captain America in public? And are you and Tony dating...in public?" That's an important thing to know.

Steve doesn't think Bucky means that as the blow it is, even though he definitely deserves it.

"I," he says. "None of us really talk to the media unless we have to. Tony--Tony really doesn't like it, for himself. You remember his dad?"

"His _dad?"_ Bucky says. Right, he should have figured. He can do the math. "Right, yeah, of course. More of an asshole than Tony, though."

"Much more," Steve agrees. "But he was also really clever, which you might _also_ remember, and eventually he was very famous. And rich, as you can see. He turned into one of the biggest weapons manufacturers in the country. Tony grew up with a lot of paparazzi attention. Especially once--Loki told you about Tony, didn't he?"

Bucky nods and remembers yet another thing he thinks he has to feel really awful about. "Uh, yeah, kind of," he says. "I didn't really get it, but yeah."

"I should probably ask him," Steve says, "before I try to explain. He doesn't like people knowing. But a lot of people do, because his father was Howard Stark." He shrugs. "So basically I'm saying publicity is bad, and we're too busy for dates most of the time, but what you're asking is if I'm still a coward when the going is easier, and the answer is yeah, a little bit, because the idea of going public still terrifies me. I--I think I'd do it, though. If that's what he wanted."

Bucky feels himself go pale and hates himself for it. "Yeah," he says distantly. "Huh."

Steve laughs, a little empty noise, and says, "Don't be too disappointed, Buck. It's probably just bravado. I'm still scared that I'd be _letting down the American people,_ and I've got half a dozen of my best friends constantly telling me how _stupid_ that is."

Bucky swallows. "You really are the same old Steve. I'm glad you didn't go and grow up without me. I can still work on you." That's a more comforting thought than he realized when he said it. He _can_ work on Steve. The others don't know Steve like he does. He can help. He can even help Tony.

Steve looks at Bucky, with his long hair and tired eyes and bionic arm. He can't tell if either of them has really grown up at all, or if they've just gotten a few more war wounds.

Not that he has much to complain about, comparatively speaking.

"Oh, Buck," he says, "I don't think you get yet how much it has hurt, thinking I'd killed you."

"Shit," Bucky whispers, because sometimes he forgets he matters, forgets he was ever (still is) a good person, forgets--until Steve is there to remind him. "I really, really wish I could get out of here and give you a hug, Cap," he says.

Steve swipes his hand across his eyes and says, "If I thought you'd forgive yourself if something went wrong, I'd say hell with it."

"Sentimental _and_ sensible," Bucky says, wiping his eyes before he can look stupid or soft. "That's my Steve."

Steve laughs damply. "You know what?" he says. "The future is pretty darn great. I couldn't even bring myself notice that at first, but it is. It's interesting. We're necessary." He breathes. "It looks so much better now than it did a couple days ago."

Bucky makes a little sound in the back of his throat. The nightmare of Steve being taken by someone else isn't what he thought. Steve _didn't forget him._ The fact that he's alive _matters_ to Steve. He isn't some useless punk no one will ever care about once he's gone.

"God, Steve," he says. "Just. Thanks."

"Bucky Barnes," Steve says. "I hope to God you're not even harboring the thought that I'd ever not want you around."

"Gotta forgive me," Bucky mutters, "it's been a while. I forgot what you're like." He didn't exactly forget, though. He just didn't dare believe Steve could be as good as he was. And then he did forget, but that wasn't his fault.

"Oh, well," Steve says more comfortably. "I'll be around. Keep reminding you."

"That better be a promise, partner," Bucky says, and in that moment the Winter Soldier is quiet in his head.

"That is my solemn promise," Steve says without a hint of humor. "I didn't lure you out of an alley and drag you home so I could abandon you. We've finally caught up with one another, Buck. Whoever we are to each other now, I'm not letting you get away from me."

Bucky can't believe what he's being offered. Not only does he have his best friend back, he's getting the space to find out what that means.

"If we can just make sure I quit being brainwashed, I think we'll be fine," he says, offering Steve a genuine smile. "Well, once we make sure I haven't pissed off Stark too much." _By, you know, trying to murder him._

"Tony," Steve reassures him, "is not good at hating people. Trust me. I've done worse to him than you did, and he--trust me. He's not angry."

"Then he's a bigger man than I am," Bucky says automatically. He laughs. "I should--God, I should apologize, huh? I don't even know how. I wasn't even brainwashed when I tried to kill him. And I think I said some shitty stuff. Have you really done worse than attempted murder?"

"Oh," Steve says quietly. "You know the matter I said I shouldn't explain for him?"

"Yeah," Bucky says. _Kind of._

"I wasn't nice," Steve says. It hurts to say. Tony has let him off the hook, has let him not even think about it, but when he does it's still fresh and awful. "When I found out, I was--I wasn't even unkind. I was cruel." He stares at his hands. "I suggested he was just grabbing for attention, that he was...making light of other people's pain and...I was really horrible, Buck." He looks up. "I think he'd rather be hurt like you hurt him than like I did."

"Steve," Bucky says sternly. "You've got to learn to watch that tongue, soldier." Bucky can't really imagine thinking like that about--about whatever Tony's damage happens to be. He was angry and paranoid when the wolf told him, but under it all, all he could hear was _queer, queer, queer._ And _queer_ means _safety._

"Don't look so beat up about it, though," he says. "He clearly forgives you."

"That's kind of my point," Steve says. "But if you want to talk to him yourself, I think he'd mostly be relieved to find out the real, important parts of you don't hate _him."_

"Yeah, sure," Bucky says. He feels a lot better about pretty much everything now that he's squared things away with Steve. "Send him on in. I'm getting used to giving audiences."

Steve beams. "I'll send him. Say, I almost forgot, where'd Thor go off to?"

"Oh--uh, Latveria, I think," Bucky says.

" _What?"_ Steve says. Tony didn't know that Thor was gone at all, and that means Thor is probably alone. And the last time any Avengers went to Latveria, one of them almost died. "Well, I guess that means he's pretty sure it was his brother. Sit tight, I have to let Tony know where he's gone. I'll make sure someone else is around to keep you from getting too bored even if Tony ends up being busy."

"Classic Steve," Bucky says. Worried about a stupid little thing like keeping Bucky engaged when there's something that looks like a crisis brewing. He's not sure what the crisis is, though. Thor's a _god._ He can probably handle things.

"That's what the action figures say," Steve tells him, and then gets up quickly to hide how much he's blushing. "Anyway. You won't be alone! Hank should have sorted through your data soon, anyway."

"That guy is psychotic," Bucky says, but without any malice. "Way too happy to be normal. But thanks. For, you know, all of it."

Steve turns back. "You're welcome," he says. "I mean, in every sense. You are welcome." He smiles. "You're _here."_

"Get outta here before you make me cry," Bucky says, meaning it.

"Sure, sure," Steve says, waving his hand on the way out.


	9. this time bucky doesn't try to kill tony

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I don't trust Starks, I guess," he says. "Or slick guys. Or short guys. Or people who touch Steve."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Warnings: implied past abuse, everyone is self-loathing

And then Bucky is alone again for a while. He ends up dozing a little, with his head against the wall of the cage, trusting himself with natural sleep for now. The Winter Soldier is still there, but Bucky isn't worried that he'll come out right now. Take over. Whatever. Steve has left Bucky feeling solid and sane.

He doesn't wake up until the lab door opens.

Tony creeps in a few steps, and then decides that's not too good an idea and goes forward more normally. "Hi," he says. "It's me. Steve said you might want some company, so. You know, if I'm okay."

Bucky hauls himself upright. "If _you're_ okay? I'm the guy who nearly killed you a few hours ago. Look, I want to apologize."

"Oh," says Tony. "Yeah, sure. I mean, apology accepted. You scared the shit out of me, though, let me tell you."

Bucky bites his lip. "Wow, Steve was right. You're really not mad. You're definitely a better guy than you dad, no offense."

Tony starts, and then fights down the instant panic that accompanies pretty much any mention of his father or...certain other people...to say, "Believe me, I try."

"Well, you're doing good." Bucky stares at the ceiling for a second and says, "Hey, about the other stuff. The stuff I said. It was shitty and I didn't mean it. I don't really know what it was about, anyway, but I didn't mean it."

Tony's mouth is dry, all of a sudden. He fumbles his way to the chair by the chamber and sits in it. "You mean the--the stuff about how I'm evil and watching everything?" he offers hopefully. Not the stuff about how he's stealing Steve and _used to be a girl._ Not that, definitely.

"I'm pretty sure you didn't take that to heart," Bucky says. "Since it's clearly insane. I mean the stuff Steve wouldn’t tell me about. The stuff about how you...what, were a girl? I don't know what I'm supposed to say, but I'm sure I'm fucking it up."

"Urgh," Tony says, clasping his hands together. "Um. Well, you're trying really hard, if you're starting by saying that. Um. Transgender is the word? I guess it's easiest to say I've always been a guy, but, I...was born with a biologically female body. Which I’ve tweaked. I--getting to look like this is a product of modern medicine. For which I'm eternally grateful, except for how much I hate shots."

"Holy shit," Bucky says. "They can _do_ that now? I knew some guys back in--Sorry, some girls, I guess. But, y'know, we didn't say it like that back then. Anyway, they were like you, I think. But the other way. Sorry, I'm a fucking asshole. What I mean is, I get being a queer and having everyone hate you. Uh."

Buck thinks trying and getting a lot of it wrong is better than tip-toeing around things. He knows he's always felt that way.

"Wow," Tony says. "I mean, I'm not being--but. You're, um. You're a lot...easier to talk to than Steve was. How is that even possible, if you and he were...?"

Whoops.

Bucky laughs. "Dunno if you noticed, buddy, but Steve ain't exactly a master of all things gay. He couldn't even say the words. None of 'em."

Tony takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. "I did notice. I'm still noticing a little, to be honest. Sorry. I--hey, should I be saying this stuff to you? Are you _okay?"_

Bucky never would have expected to be, not when he woke up this morning, not a couple hours ago.

"Yeah," he says. "Weird, right? He was the love of my life. But I guess I was just a teenager, and it turns out my life didn't _end_ just 'cause he found another guy. And I'd rather make sure he gets this right than sit here being bitter. He's my best friend, you know?"

Tony gathers his wits together, which is hard, which takes a few seconds, notes _just a teenager_ in a panicked-excited little way, and then he says, "I can tell you're not inherently a terrifying serial assassin because man, you're nice. I should've known you were this nice. The tommy gun always kind of threw me, but check me out! Weapons manufacture! Can't always judge a guy by his, er, his guns."

Bucky laughs. "Oh, man. I...You're really decent. You are. I think things are gonna be okay. And I can harass Steve if he needs harassing about owning up to having a boyfriend."

"I don't really mind," Tony hurries to assure him. "You know. It's okay if he takes awhile. He's Captain America! I'm--a checkered past. And I _really hate_ the paparazzi. You have no idea."

"I'm getting an idea," Bucky says. "Trust me, you couldn't pay me to be you. But don't be afraid to push the guy. He's had years to get used to the idea."

"Hah, okay," Tony says. "Um. I really don't want you to hate me. Before about five minutes ago you really seemed to hate me. Like everything about me that came out of your mouth."

 _Oh my god,_ Bucky thinks. _This guy hates himself more than I ever hated myself. That's impressive._

"I don't trust Starks, I guess," he says. "Or slick guys. Or short guys. Or people who touch Steve."

"I guess I'm in good shape then," Tony says weakly.

"I don't hate you," Bucky says, more gently. "In fact, I'm grateful that Steve's got someone competent looking out for him. Sometimes I get tired, or I'm not around." He smiles. "Got it?"

"Competent?" Tony says, automatically dubious. He's competent with robots, high stress situations, and large amounts of money. And nice suits. He's not so sure he's competent about people, including Steve. "I mean, thanks. I'd be angrier than you're being, I think. Now that you're not trying to kill me, I mean. I'm just saying," he starts, but he doesn't actually want to say, _sorry I'm rich and I babble a lot and I stole your boyfriend._

Bucky shrugs. "If I was gonna be mad, it wouldn't be at you. Well, maybe it would. It kinda was. But that doesn't make sense. You didn't even know me. You thought I was dead. It's not actually anyone's fault, and yeah, that's awful, because I can't beat anyone up about it except me. But I think once I get this shit out of my head, I might be okay." He hopes.

"I'm glad," Tony says. "If you don't hate it here and we can get you fixed up--I mean, there are worse places to be than this. And I mean, you've seen Steve. There's still a place for you guys. So please consider this your home until you decide if you want something else. You know, eventually."

Bucky has a moment of unreality where he's absolutely certain that this is a Soviet plot and he's not really here at all. Because this is luckier than he usually gets, and it's luck he's not making on his own.

"Thanks," he says hoarsely after a second.

"Not a problem," says Tony. "Um. Do you want me to tell you more about us? Or about now?" He shrugs. "Apparently Thor has gone off to get himself killed in Latveria and I can't follow him and Steve is taking a nap and everyone else will pester me. I think I'd rather talk to you. So: is there anything you want to know?"

"Is _everything_ an okay start?" Bucky asks. It's been years since anyone actually volunteered information, and he's a little stunned. "I need to know how to navigate this year without looking like an idiot. I need to know if Hank's always like that. I need to know who Clint is. Everything."

"Okay," Tony says, smiling. Everything is big. Tony is good at big. "We can do everything."


	10. loki and doom bark more than they bite

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Flattery may work, since Loki so rarely receives it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Warnings: family conflict, references to past abuse/assault

Loki is still in an excellent mood when he wanders into Doom's den. "Awooo!" he says, and thumps his tail against Victor's chair.

Doom starts in his chair and stares at the beast. "How the hell did you get in here?" he asks. There are wolves in these mountains, but his defense systems are excellent. And it's being unusually friendly.

"Hrooph," says Loki, privately delighted, and flops down on Doom's feet. So far he's not being shot at or stomped on. Excellent!

Doom narrows his eyes. This is no normal wolf. He has no idea what it _is,_ though.

"If one of my enemies sent you, they're doing a poor job with their beast," he says, edging his feet out of from under its weight.

Loki rolls obstinately closer to make up lost ground, rethinks it, and bounds upright to flop his front paws across Victor's lap. He sticks his tongue out and pants for good measure.

He knows all about wolves.

"This is a dog, not a wolf. What are you, little one?" He scratches it behind the ears, because it can't do any harm.

Loki leans into the touch, which is _much nicer_ with wolf ears, and intones, "I come bearing your fate, overfamiliar mortal."

Doom's expression twists into a glare. "Oh, _I see."_ He keeps scratching the wolf's ears, though. "And did we have fun today?"

"You are much nicer to me when you don't know it's me," Loki sniffs, and jumps down. He saunters over to the fire and flops in front of it. "This one went much better than the last one. Even if he _doesn't_ kill Stark I'll have gotten a few good minutes of wretched madness out of the _boy."_

"Petty trifles," Doom says, but he's pleased. He occasionally forgets that Loki is nothing to be toyed with. Being reminded is...gratifying. He has chosen his ally well.

"And will they strike back for this trifle?" he asks.

"Who knows?" Loki says. "Certainly they will if anything comes of it and they work out it was me."

"Who else is going around pretending to be wolves?" Doom asks, mostly irked that he didn't realize immediately. He gets up and goes to kneel by the wolf.

"I wasn't being _me,"_ Loki explains patiently. "I was being a wolf god. Other than Odin. Odin isn't good at advice."

Doom raises his eyebrows and pats Loki's back. "That's even more charming. Perhaps they won't work it out, then." He could do without more visits from Avengers. He pushes Loki's fur the wrong way.

Loki twitches an ear but doesn't grumble.

"Just because I've never been charming since _you_ met me," he says.

"Mmm," Doom says. He pulls off his glove to play with Loki's ears. "I don't believe you ever were."

"It's not necessary, Victor, for you to be mean every time I am happy," Loki says, leaning into his hand.

"Mm." Doom leans down and kisses Loki's ears gently. "I was teasing, foolish beast."

"No, you weren't," Loki disagrees. He rolls over and shows his stomach. "What do you think of this wolfthing? Does it suit?"

"You can see that it does," Doom answers. He scratches Loki's stomach. Loki has been good, so Doom will reward him by appreciating his tricks. Besides, he _is_ charmed.

Loki whines in pleasure. "I might have to put it away soon," he huffs. "I might need you to touch me in another body. If anything but a pet will amuse you, that is."

"Oh, you do more than amuse me, in most forms," Doom says, pleased. He sits back on his heels and offers a smile.

Loki scrambles upright, front paws propped before Victor's feet, and does an odd little shiver that shakes the wolf off of him. He _is_ charming today; he comes out on the other side of the magic naked and Asgardian, kneeling comfortably at Victor's feet and peering up with him with something almost like docility.

Victor makes a small sound, easily passed off as surprise alone. "You look well today," he says. "You always look well, but today you like princely." He reaches down and runs his fingers through Loki's hair.

"Oh," Loki says, and then he smiles. "You feel badly for teasing me before. Or--or you are teasing me now?" His expression shifts from pleased to genuinely anxious and slightly suspicious in a moment. The wolf must do something to him, because he hides himself less well than usual.

"I'm not teasing you now, actually," Doom says. He strokes behind Loki's ear, mimicking what he’d done a moment ago. "I almost wish I were."

"Oh," Loki says again. Naturally the one time anyone will call him princely he crouches here on the ground and won't believe them. Fool. He takes Victor's hand and climbs to his feet, unselfconscious of his body, at least. "Good. If it makes you a little uncomfortable, even better."

Victor laughs. "It does, you know. I trust you more when you shiver and hiss and weep. This man looks like he might strike me down. If his humor changes, anyway."

Loki's mouth tilts up into a smile. "And my humor is nothing to take lightly," he agrees. "I shiver and hiss and weep, and I am still the god of mischief, Victor. Wherever they throw me down and whoever scorns me, whatever hero comes to your door for my blood, I am still a god." His smile broadens. "At the moment, I am _your_ god."

Victor's expression sours. "Oh, now you go too far." But his hands fall to Loki's hips anyway. "Victor von Doom has no gods. Then again, if you wish to belong to me..."

"Grasper of insults, ever-king, strutting-proud Doom," says Loki, laughing, "how do you know that is not what I meant?"

"As ever, you mean more than one thing most of the time," Victor says softly. His Loki is magnificent like this.

"I am significant," Loki agrees. "Get up and touch me, Victor. I will be your god, but I will not wait for your pleasure."

Victor laughs and does so, his hands ghosting over Loki's skin. "Oh, I will not hurry my pleasure."

Loki hums and tilts back his head. He lets Victor play for a minute, and then reaches down and grasps Victor's mask at its edge. "If you will not come to me I will bring you to me, and I will be rough."

Victor gasps sharply. "Yes," he says simply. He isn't sure he trusts Loki enough to allow that, but he will permit himself to find out.

Loki is surprised, but he doesn't show it. He grasps Victor's mask more firmly and lifts it away.

He loves Victor's face, because it is both more true and more a lie than Doom's mask.

"Someday perhaps you will get what you want," he says, "and you will be my god, too."

"I believe it with all my heart," Victor whispers harshly. "I would not let you touch me if I didn't."

Loki's fingertips brush the scars on Victor's face. "If you did not want me to touch you," he says, "I would not try." He would only rage against being hated, as he always does.

Victor flinches at Loki's touch and then forces himself still. "You..." The words get lost, and that is dangerous. He can't let Loki forget that they are both powerful.

Loki scowls. "I take no _joy_ in being loathed," he says. "Why should I take _pleasure_ in it? And besides," he adds, calm again, "there are more than enough of that sort of monster."

"You are a unique creature," Victor whispers. "We do well together." He presses his palm flat against Loki's chest. Loki hisses, his eyes squeezing shut. His hand tightens on Victor's still-armored wrist.

"Before my brother comes and spoils it," he suggests, "perhaps you'd better fuck me, Victor. I feel very open to suggestion, with regards to the specifics."

"In that case," Victor says, a little breathless, "I want you up against a wall where I can see the light from the fire on your skin."

Loki smiles exactly like the kind of god he is. "I am the flame that burns," he says obliquely. "I like that." He pulls away from Victor's grasp and positions himself at the wall beside the fire. His pale skin practically glows.

Victor discards a few necessary pieces of his armor and steps over join Loki. "Beautiful," he says in a hushed voice. He runs his hand down Loki's back and presses against him.

Loki braces his hands against the stones and leans back, practically purring. The fire is warming his skin, more than nature ever does.

"Let me take you," Victor mutters into Loki's hair. "Let me, for this day, worship you."

Loki whines without losing any dignity. He says, "Do so. Be my supplicant, Victor. It is time you remembered who I am."

"Loki," Victor says, his hands roaming over Loki's body and he rocks against him. "Loki, Loki, Loki."

The door flies open.

"Loki?" Thor calls. "Where are--"

Loki's head whips around. He knocks back Victor's arm, strides forward, and is clothed and armored in an instant.

"What are you _doing?"_ he hisses.

"What are _you_ doing?" Thor says, blushing violently. He has caught Loki in compromising positions before, but this is uniquely horrifying.

"GET OUT," Doom fumes, pulling his discarded armor back on (starting, Thor notices distractedly, with the mask). "Get out of my castle!"

"Me?" Loki snaps. "A mortal witch with excellent dress sense. _Why are you in this house?"_

Thor takes a few steps back. He should have knocked. "You came to visit Bucky," he says weakly. It's hard to accuse Loki of anything with that image fresh in his mind. He would really rather leave.

"Who?" Loki demands.

"I think you know," Thor says sternly. "I apologize for interrupting, but you nearly got Tony killed."

"I have _no idea_ what you're saying," Loki says angrily.

Thor feels more uncertain by the minute, but Loki is good at doing that to people. He's seen Loki do it time and time again. He won't be put off that easily.

"It was a clever disguise," he tries. Flattery may work, since Loki so rarely receives it. "I almost didn't realize what you were doing."

Loki stares at him. "You mean someone visited this personage, someone who looked nothing like me, and you're still here telling me I was the visitor? The little skirmish with your _lover_ and that visit from your precious Sif were plenty for me, brother, _thank_ you."

"I should have hunted you down for what you did to Bruce," Thor snaps. "It's shameful that it took me another near-death of a friend to take you to task for it." He's been so busy worrying about Loki that he forgot how they could _fight._

"The girl was fine!" Loki shouts, thinking of Wasp. He's surprised, in a small part of his mind that will let him admit things are not always under control, that he can still keep up with his lies when Thor is this angry, and he is this angry in return.

"Yes," Thor says, his voice low. "She was fine and Bruce was fine and Tony and Bucky are fine. But for how long? Until you push it one step further. I cannot allow that."

"There is nothing I want to _push at,"_ Loki says. "Unless of course you are going to make a habit of these unwelcome visitations. I am happy here without you or any of your new, precious _family."_

Thor stops, knowing Loki has said something important. "You could be family, too," he says softly. "You've never stopped."

"Don't," Loki says terribly. "I never started. Before you knew, I was already--you had siblings, even those who weren't related by blood, and they _weren't me."_

"LIAR!" Thor shouts, a great, thundering condemnation. "I would have done anything for you and anything you said, I _did._ You are my brother. You were my best friend. And if I was a fool, it was never because you were not my family." He takes a breath, or tries to. "Even now, when you have tried to murder my friends and my boyfriend."

Loki keeps staring for long, awful seconds. "Why did you have to come here?" he says finally. "Why did you--" He shoots a glance at Victor, and then around himself. He can't decide whether to advance or retreat, so he just stays put.

"I--I'm sorry," Thor says. "I mean that. I shouldn't have interrupted, but I was upset. I don't want to intrude on what you want, if this is truly it. I just want to mend things. For my friends or for you. Or both."

"Mend?" Loki repeats. It is vile to think that five minutes ago he was utterly in control, and now the very circumstance he suggested has arrived in the middle of things, and Loki is reduced almost instantly to almost nothing.

Thor looks at him. "No," he says softly. "I thought not. I will not stop trying, brother. I hope you know that. But for now, I just need to make sure you stay away from my friends. You never did get along with the people I chose to associate with," he says, smiling faintly.

 _Wait,_ Loki wants to say all at once, because all he said was a word and Thor has decided what he meant by it, and he _doesn't want to be alone._ But it's too late, isn't it?

"The people you associated with before were boors, and now they're flies," he says instead. He lets the words invent themselves. "If you want to hold back the _slavering hound,_ perhaps you should associate with people who don't qualify as its natural prey."

Thor can see something in Loki's face he should be paying attention to, but as usual, he can't pin it down, and it's gone before he can look closer.

"How did you become this?" he asks. "Or how did you become someone who must pretend to be this?"

Doom makes a derisive sound behind Loki. Loki, for that moment, is entirely who he was before he fell. Odin's son. Thor is condemnatory, and Loki's rage and protest vanish into silence and hunched shoulders.

"Loki," Doom says sharply. "Are you going to let him speak to you that way?"

"Silence!" Thor says, but mostly because he's embarrassed that he's being chastised for--what, hurting Loki? That isn't how it's meant to be.

"I'll leave your friends alone," Loki says, impossibly quiet. He doesn't look at either of them.

Thor is about to say, _I don't believe you,_ but it doesn't matter. If Loki will, he will. If not, they'll find out. Anything else Thor says will just upset him.

"I should go," Thor says. "I ruined your night."

"I _thought_ that was all you wanted," Loki says.

"You're worse at listening than I," Thor says. "I never want that. Goodbye, brother. You are still my brother. I will still listen if you ever call. But for now, I leave you to better, more capable friends." He bows to Loki and walks out.

Loki is left feeling that the floor has dropped from under him, as though he has been having a completely different conversation from the one he _thought_ he was having. _You didn't dare to hope, did you?_ he asks himself nastily, and of course he didn't, but--

But even now he doesn't really expect Thor to leave like that.

"Arrogant, worthless," Victor seethes. "Breaking into my castle just to lecture you, should have _murdered_ him..." He pauses. This won't help anything.

Loki turns to him and smiles. He's crying, but only tears. "I suppose you'll want to point out that this means it didn't go so well after all, and I should keep my promise to Thor and go after something easier for my entertainment."

"I would agree only with the former half," Doom says. "If I were you, I'd want to tear Thor and his friends down." He pats Loki's shoulder. "Shh. Whatever you decide, I will stand by you."

"I don't want anything," Loki says. "I never wanted anything."

"You want things you can't ask for," Victor says. "Things he'd give you if you let him, I think. He still cares for you." Part of him hopes he's wrong about that. Not that it will matter either way.

Loki looks up at him with an expression on the edge of breaking.

"I don't know how," he says. Then he laughs, painfully. "You should have known the god of me was just a show. I must have borrowed it from the wolf. I'm nothing like that. Nothing to take seriously."

"I only harbor equals here," Victor says. "And you know how few people I allow to stay here at all. Yes?" He kisses Loki's forehead. "You had a fight with your brother. Nothing more."

Loki shuts his eyes and leans lightly against him. "You're growing gentle, Victor. Although it's cruel of you to call us equals." He reaches for Victor's wrist and squeezes. "It is still the day you promised me. Will you still do your worship, or am I too small a god?"

"On the contrary," Victor breathes, "I want it more than ever." Next to Thor, Loki always looks like more of a god instead of less.

"Oh, you are a good subject," Loki breathes, and then squeezes his wrist hard. "Don't object," he orders. "You are a master of misdeeds, Victor von Doom, but I am the master of them all." He lets go and says more easily. "Tell me what would please you best, and I will tell you if you may have it."

Victor considers. "I want to get on my knees for you." (It occurs to him, in the back of his mind, that he has never felt safe saying such things to anyone before.)

"Good," Loki says. He slips past Victor and sits down in Victor's chair. Somewhere in between, his hastily assembled clothes vanish again. "Get on the floor."

Victor gets on his knees without hesitation. Loki looks good in his chair. Loki would look good on his throne. Loki looks especially good before Victor knows Loki would do the same for him. On a good day.

He kisses Loki's knee. "Mm. Loki."

Loki sighs. "I only sometimes think you weak," he says. "Only in the way all things are, that have _passions."_

"Then we have both been weak," Victor murmurs, kissing the inside of Loki's thigh. It matters little, when no one but the two of them can see.

Loki laughs, a low, seductive chuckle. "You ought to know I revile things that are like me even more than I revile things for being what I am not." He leans further into Victor's chair by an inch or so, and spreads his legs wider.

"You may find it hard to revile me soon," Victor says, catching the sensitive skin of Loki's inner thigh between his teeth. He sucks for a moment and then lets go. "At least I won't be able to speak."

Loki makes a pleased noise and shuts his eyes, customarily catlike. "I said _sometimes,"_ he reminds Victor. "You do not usually look weak, and I do not usually hate you."

"I am unused to relationships of this kind," Victor says, and he slides his mouth over Loki's cock to avoid saying more.

" _Oh,"_ Loki says in a high voice. "Oh." It comes out much deeper, the second time. His hand snakes into Victor's hair. "Which kind, Victor? The kind where your lover survives, or the kind where he _ever_ likes you?"

Victor makes a sound in the back his throat, frustration and anger, but he doesn't stop. He just uses his tongue more. Loki's fingers on his scalp feel amazing. Loki fidgets, opening his legs further and arching his back. His right hand tightens in Victor's hair; his left rests lightly on his own chest. 

"Never worry," he growls. "The gods like a faithful subject. No matter what else they do to you, they won't leave you." He gasps. "Not until they forget to stay."

Victor pulls back and looks at Loki, feeling naked and wounded. He doesn't believe Loki will leave for good, not really, but he doesn't have his mask on, and that makes everything an unfair blow.

"Is your memory so flawed?" he asks.

Loki raises his eyebrows and doesn't rise to Victor's distress. "As to what?" he asks.

"That you could forget to come _home,"_ Victor says softly, leaning in again to kiss Loki's hip.

Loki pauses to consider. It would not be kind to be honest, in this position, but he chooses honesty anyway. "No, I would not forget," he says. "But there is always a chance it would not fit with the plan."

Victor laughs, delighted and oddly relieved. "I was not wrong when I said we were right for one another." He bends his head to take Loki in his mouth again.

Loki hums. His nails scrape down Victor's neck. "You would love me more if I left you for a plot," he says, pleased. "I would make you so terribly lonely, and you would adore me for it."

Victor gasps around Loki's cock. He has never been lonely for someone worth the feeling.

Loki puts both hands in Victor's hair and jerks him forward, forcing himself further into Victor's mouth. Everyone is warmer than Loki, except the Jotuns, but no one is as warm as a mortal. Even up here in his cold armor and his cold stone, surrounded by winds and snows, Victor is brief and bright and hot-burning. It is terrifying how much he wants Loki to stay, when permanence means such different things for each of them.

Victor lets Loki fuck his mouth, and he opens it wider to take more of him. He digs the nails of one hand into Loki's hip to steady himself. He is on his knees servicing a god, and he feels only secure.

"Victor," Loki murmurs. He bends forward until he is curled over Victor's head, his fingertips brushing Victor's ears. His words are broken apart, a little, by the rocking of his hips. "Victor, there aren't so many of you, there have never been so many who would worship. Only the worst, and the rest curse me. You must be a freak. I am glad to have this freak."

Loki can turns the worst words into compliments. Victor would tell him how much he appreciates that, but he thinks he can make it clear enough. He sucks Loki deeper, feeling himself surrounded by the false heat of Loki's body.

Loki moans, arching back and dragging on Victor's hair from both sides. "How dare you not be a liar?" he gasps. "How dare you mean this? You stand in front of the gods who would be my masters and dismiss them out of rage for me. Victor, Victor, you are such a fool."

Victor has been a fool before, but he does not think himself a fool in this. He shuts his eyes tightly enough to almost block out the light from the fire and ducks his head, taking all of Loki in and then pulling off almost entirely several times in quick succession.

Loki pushes back against Victor's chair, and forward into his mouth, whimpering and clawing at his shoulders.

He writhes and gasps for another minute or so, focused, finally, on what they are doing and not what he is thinking.

"Very little harder," he chokes. "Very little more. _Touch_ me."

Victor needs no encouragement. He drags his fingers down Loki's thighs, one hand still glove-clad. He strokes a finger the length of Loki's cock when he pulls off. He scrapes his nails over Loki's stomach.

"I didn't tell you to move your mouth," Loki growls, and forces Victor closer. He doesn't force his cock in. "Take me in. Make me come. You are going to taste me."

Victor takes a sharp breath and lets Loki hear it. He never allows people to do this to him, and he's surprised to find how much he likes it. Keeping his hands on Loki, he takes Loki's cock in his mouth again, all the way.

Loki holds him in close and jerks his hips. " _Harder,"_ he snaps.

Victor complies, his nails biting into Loki's skin, his mouth working until it's sore. This time, he keeps his eyes open. He wants to see what's been made of both of them.

Loki pants, and then he moans, and then he cries out, short sharp, desperate noises, off-beat with the jagged movements of his hips. His legs squeeze against Victor's arms, and he shakes with need.

 _"Take this,"_ he orders, strangled. He slams hard against Victor's mouth and goes rigid as he comes, his nails biting into Victor's scalp and shoulder, and his voice stuttering out into a near-scream.

Victor swallows around Loki, taking everything for his god (for whatever given value of _his god_ they are operating from). When he finally pulls away, he's panting and glassy-eyed. "Thank you," he mutters. It seems appropriate.

Loki, heavy-lidded and slightly mussed and not yet breathing quietly, raises his eyebrows and smiles. "I think maybe it is good for you to understand what _equals_ means," he observes. "Do you need release, Victor? Do you need me to help let you go?"

"Yes," Victor whispers, not as harshly as he intends to. He cannot feel aggravated at present. He just _wants._

"Then I release you," Loki says, eyes glinting in the firelight. "Unclothe yourself and I can serve you likewise. Or in any other way." He tilts his head. "But I would like you bare."

Victor hesitates, annoyed with himself that the rules of when he will allow himself to be naked keep changing. Then he braces himself and says, "Very well." He sets about shedding his armor as if it doesn't worry him.

Loki watches with unnervingly quiet intensity. When Victor is naked, he says, "Now you can pick, if you like, and I will tell you if you can have what you want."

"For a god of mischief, you like rules," Victor mutters. "I want you to blow me. But you don't have to get on your knees." He wants. He wants too much to challenge Loki, which is embarrassing.

"How _else_ am I supposed to do it, Victor?" Loki asks sardonically. "Anyway, I was on my knees for you earlier, before you asked. I told you I'd give you what you wanted, within reason. You can have me on the ground if you want me there."

Victor clears his throat, feeling stupid and angry. That's enough to make him grab Loki by the hair and hiss, "Then that's what I want. Get on your knees."

There's a flash of alarm in Loki's eyes--he doesn't know what he's done wrong, for once, and he doesn't like this taste of what it must be like for Victor--but he drops to his knees and looks up for Victor's orders.

Victor, soothed by regaining this small measure of control, says softly, "Suck me off. If you would. Please." He strokes Loki behind the ear as he did the wolf.

Loki plants one hand against Victor's ankle, and lifts Victor's cock into his mouth with the other. This is almost always a dangerous undertaking, because he's good with his tongue in this as well as talking. Most of the people he sleeps with don't like being too pleased in a demonstration of their power. Most of the people he sleeps with get angry if he is too good at this, and this is not a safe position to be in when the person standing over you is angry.

That just means he's wary, though, as he slides his mouth up half the length of Victor's cock.

Victor gasps and grabs Loki's hair to steady himself. He's already feeling easy from pleasing Loki, but if Loki does that with his tongue a few times, this is going to be embarrassing. Victor has no interest in being embarrassed again today. Thor's interruption was bad enough.

"Slow," he manages.

Loki slows, obligingly, then pulls off altogether and wraps one hand around Victor's cock. He leans in to flick his tongue against Victor's balls.

This is perhaps not what Victor meant by _slow._

Victor makes a strangled sound and tries not to move his hips. "Why," he pants, "why didn't we do this sooner?"

Loki pulls back and smiles at him, small but pleased. "Because, Victor," he says, "neither of us trusted the other to do it."

He twists his hand just roughly enough to remind Victor of at least one way in which both of them are dangerous.

Victor groans and thrusts forward into Loki's hand. "I'm glad that has changed." He realizes his eyes are shut, perhaps so he won't have to see himself. There's no reason for that, though. His body is fine.

Loki swipes his mouth over the head of Victor's cock, and then says, eyes narrowed, "Victor. You will see me when I do this or it won't be done."

Victor's eyes fly open. "Of course," he says, as evenly as he can. "What was I thinking?" Loki is worth looking at, anyhow.

"I don't know," Loki says, but he lets it go and plunges his mouth messily over Victor's cock. He doesn't need dignity to be successful here. He laps and sucks and moans shamelessly, his hands braced against Victor's thighs.

Victor bites his knuckles to avoid crying out as he thrusts unevenly into Loki's mouth. When he feels himself getting close, he moves his hand long enough to says breathlessly, "Loki, I can't--I'm--"

Loki doesn't slow his mouth, only digs his fingers in at the backs of Victor's legs and gives him a shake so Victor knows he can't pull away.

Victor growls and jerks his hips a few more times, coming with a shout he fails to mask. With nothing to steady himself on, he grips Loki's hair blindly again.

Loki, ignoring Victor's wild hands, holds his hips steady and swallows him down. When he's done, Loki slides his aching mouth free of Victor's cock and sits back on his heels to look up at him. His arms are still braced against Victor's legs, because Victor looks unsteady and slightly stunned. Loki is pleased about that. The odds are slim that Victor will ask how and when a god has learned something like this. Loki cannot decide whether he is wildly grateful on this count, or somewhat disappointed.

Victor takes a few unsteady steps backward, finally settling on dropping to a crouch beside Loki.

"That was more than adequate," he says, his voice still hoarse.

Loki stretches his jaw. "Practically bursting with praise today, aren't we, Victor? Perhaps I should take the form of a dog more often, since it's so nice for you to reassure me like one."

"If I told you how it really was, you'd never respect me again," Victor says, yawning. He feels pleased and slow, more satisfied than he often does after sex. He also feels cold.

Loki's hand approaches from Victor's blind spot, and only brushes across Victor's cheek for a moment before pulling away again. He _does_ want Victor to ask, he decides, but only out of some strange desire for him to care, and maybe know. He does not wish to ruin _this,_ which any answer would.

"You're better at it than I am," Victor continues, inclining his head toward Loki. "I don't like to admit that of anything, but I suppose this is an odd skill to take pride in. Although it’s one you've clearly honed." He eyes Loki quizzically.

Loki balks, and then laughs, a stilted, unpleasant action. Too many answers fly through his head. He lights on one without considering whether it's the best or the worst. He says, "Yes, well, sometimes it infuriates people _more_ to find they're not teaching you as many lessons as they'd expected."

Victor frowns, seeing he's miscalculated (or worse, spoken without calculating at all). "There's no shame in it," he says.

"They would not like to hear that either," Loki says, amused.

"Perhaps they would rather avoid the back of my hand, too," Victor says grumpily. He doesn't like to think of who Loki has touched in this way. Or who has touched Loki.

Loki makes a small noise. "I hoped you'd care," he says. "Oh, you know. Not because your property is secondhand." He looks at Victor from under his eyelashes. "Because they disliked me and used me anyway. That _is_ a fair assessment. Though," he acknowledges, "I used them, too. In some ways."

"I'm sure if I knew them I'd believe they deserved it," Victor says, more gently than he means to. "Most people do." He frowns. "But not you. Or at least, I don't want to see you used."

"I know that," Loki says in a voice of shared surprise. He moves closer to Victor, leans against his shins and drapes his arms across Victor's knees. "Do you think I should keep my promise to Thor? To leave his friends alone?"

Victor considers. If this continues, he's certain to have more unwelcome visitors, and Loki will wind up distressed again. None of that is ideal. But if Loki simply caves to Thor's demands...

"I think perhaps you need a more subtle way of hurting them," he says slowly. "Something that can't be directly tied to you immediately. And don't say that wolf was that. It wasn't."

Loki clings. "I'm very tired," he mumbles into Victor's knees. "Do you know, it is practically exhausting to be angry like this. Can I just beat my stupid brother bloody and have done with it?"

Victor chuckles and runs a hand down Loki's back. "If you think you could win, be my guest. I understand the urge." Oh, how well he understands it. But the satisfaction would be fleeting.

"I don't _care,"_ Loki says, even smaller. Then he uncurls abruptly and spears Victor with a hawkish look. "Never mind this stupidity. I want clothes, and drink, and then I want to walk the ramparts with you, Victor, and then I want to take a nap. Cancel your plans, today we are maintaining the most vital territory."

Victor looks at him for a second before getting to his feet. "It's times like this that I am reminded of why I let you make this your home in the first place," he says, once he's looking away to collect his clothing.

"I am splendid," Loki says, not loudly or even proudly; all he is doing is standing a few feet from Victor, clothing restored, back straight.

"Yes," Victor says. "Yes, we both are."


	11. thor dislikes the implications

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You told me Midgard is nicer. In Midgard terrible things can still happen to children."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Warnings: vague discussions of past abuse

As per Tony’s orders, Bruce made sure Thor wasn't doing anything stupid for a while, but he hasn't seen him since his meeting with Bucky. That's not entirely reassuring, so Bruce has come back to the Tower and sneaked past Hank (with a minimum of out-of-context data spitting) to ask Bucky if he knows where Thor has gone.

"I'm assuming you didn't kill him," Bruce says, deadpan, but phone or no phone, Thor usually checks in; it's worrisome that he hasn't.

Bucky laughs, but only because he likes Bruce. It's not all that funny. "Not this time. He said he was going to Latveria to deal with his brother." He waits to see if Bruce will react like Steve did.

Bruce pales. "Alone?" he asks. His voice doesn't manage exactly the whole word, so he clears his throat and has to try again, more loudly. "Alone?"

Okay, well, this is worse than how Steve reacted. "Sorry," Bucky says quickly. "If it helps, I think Steve and Tony are dealing with it. And Thor seems like a really capable guy..."

But he remembers how that wolf was. Being tough probably won't help one damn bit.

"He's a sweetheart," Bruce says, not like it's a good thing. He clasps his hands together and tries not to panic. "That thing that tried to mess you up and get you to kill all his best friends, that's his little brother. His little brother who almost killed me a few weeks ago. Tried to get Hulk...uh, me...to kill a building full of people, too. He's--along with me," Bruce blushes, "that wolf is probably the most important thing in the world to Thor."

Bucky swallows. These people aren't like anything in the army.

"That's kind of messed up," he says after a second. "I mean, sorry. I just mean I feel shitty for all of you." He can't really pass judgment on Thor for not killing his brother. It's not like Bucky even knows what family is.

"I feel shitty for us too," Bruce says. "I even feel a little shitty for Loki, to be honest. There's some history there. Or--myth, or whatever it is. But if he hurts Thor in some way that means Thor can't stop me, I'm going to kill a building full of _him."_

Now _that_ is something he recognizes. Bucky's been that angry for people before. "Fucking _right,"_ he says.

Before he can say anything else, the door opens and Thor comes striding in, looking kind of sick and definitely upset.

"There you are," he says to Bruce.

Bruce jumps to his feet. "Pardon," he says to Bucky, and then practically hurls himself across the room.

"You damned _idiot,"_ he hisses, and then grabs Thor's face and pulls him into a kiss.

Thor clings to Bruce, tugging at his shirt and kissing him back desperately. He just wants to be _home,_ not here in this lab, not with all of the hard parts still to go. "I'm sorry," he mutters between kisses.

Bruce turns back, his hand tight on Thor's sleeve, and calls to Bucky, "You all right down here with just," he gestures towards Hank.

"Fine," Bucky says quickly. "I'm fine, really. Just deal with your boy."

Bruce flashes him a grateful, slightly startled look, and then pulls Thor towards the door. "Come on," he says. "We're going home."

"Yes," Thor says, weak with relief. "Yes, please. Do you want to fly? I don't want to see people."

"Er," says Bruce, a little flustered, "if you want to." Flying makes him feel like the unfortunate traditional variety of heroine, and there's a real possibility that he could panic by surprise at any moment, and leave Thor clinging to Hulk instead. But there are worse things, actually, and Thor clearly wants to be out of here.

"I won't let go," Thor promises. He knows Bruce doesn't like doing this, but he can't see people right now. Loki and Doom have left him more shaken than he'd like to admit, and certainly more shaken than he thought he was when he left.

He picks Bruce up and says, "Shut your eyes."

"Sure," Bruce says, holding on tightly. But he doesn't shut his eyes. That's a hundred times worse than knowing where he is.

Thor gets them home as quickly as he can and sets Bruce down gently at the door. "I don't know if I have my keys," he says blankly. He feels on the verge of either tears or rage, but neither will come.

Bruce digs his out of his pocket and waves them. "A moment," he says, and unlocks the door, and holds it open for Thor to come inside.

Thor allows himself to relax just a fraction once they're inside. "I'm sorry," he says. Most important things first.

Bruce sighs. "You're in one piece, anyway," he says.

Thor smiles. "Yes. We didn't even fight. We just argued a little. I--I interrupted him having--you know, in bed. Or rather, in Doctor Doom's den." He grimaces.

"Oh, well there's a way to start on some nice moral high ground," Bruce says, quirking a smile.

"You didn't _see,"_ Thor says miserably. "You wouldn't laugh if you had. And it only got worse from there. I think we were talking at cross-purposes, but I can never tell. He was miserable. I was miserable. I don't think it helped anything."

"Nothing will help if he doesn't want to _be_ helped," Bruce says. He feels...well. Helpless.

"I don't know what he wants," Thor says, rubbing a hand across his eyes. "I never do. I don't understand him. He does things I don't know about so I can never tell how he's going to react. I don't think he's ever let me know him." All of his guilt and concern about Loki is coming out now, all wrong.

Bruce has no idea what to say. He deals with plenty of confusing and violent people, and he talks very frequently to people who refuse to listen to him, but doesn't try to talk to any family. He doesn't even know if Thor should be trying, still, or learning how to let Loki go so the Avengers can put him in prison.

"What did he say this time?" he asks.

"Very little," Thor says. "He denied it at first. He was hurt, as always. I'm not sure by what. I made him look as he used to look when I was in a temper." He bites his lip. "I am simply glad I didn't leave him alone there."

Bruce makes an annoyed noise. Bruce is a little annoyed. Fond, but annoyed. "That's not what he said. That's how he felt. Or how you thought he felt. You really do talk past each other, don't you?"

Thor takes a deep, shaky breath. "That's true. We don't talk about things the same way. All right, then. He said it wasn't him. He said he was never my brother, and that we both have new families. He said he'd leave you all alone."

"That's something," Bruce says. He half means the promise, but half means that Thor is vaguely circling specifics. "Can...can I ask you something?"

Thor, already on edge, startles a little at the question. Then he says, "Of course."

"Before this stuff came out--about his parentage," Bruce says cautiously. "Um. When you were younger. When you thought everything was fine. Was your brother happy then?"

Bruce believes that one terrible moment can make a mess out of a person, but it doesn't usually. And Thor _doesn't_ pay attention. Maybe this Loki is the only Loki there's ever been, except that now he's truthful about it.

Thor flinches. "No," he says. His voice sounds strangled. "No, but I didn't know. I didn't realize. I thought everything was fine. I told you, I used to be...awful. I was blind and I didn't think and--Bruce, this is my fault."

Bruce frowns and shakes his head. "But--no," he says. "If he wasn't...you might have been a dumb older brother. No offense. But if how he is now came from what he felt then...no, that's clearly not your fault. There's something wrong with him, or else there was something going on you didn't know about. It's not _your fault._ I can't...I can't see how it would be."

"There wasn't," Thor snaps. He catches himself, surprised at how angry he is. "There wasn't anything going on," he clarifies. "Loki was always slipping off, but if there was anything bad enough to make him like this...I would have known, Bruce. Wouldn't I?" He is, more than anything else, just afraid.

"I--I don't know," Bruce says. "I don't know anything about your family, Thor, except that you won't talk about your father and your brother had something almost amounting to a psychotic break, and apparently Asgard is a cold, hard place you don't want to go back to. You told me Midgard is nicer. In Midgard terrible things can still happen to children."

He stops, grabs his knees under cover of the table, starts counting off seconds quietly in his head.

Thor takes a breath and almost chokes on it. He can't--

"NO," he says, and he slams his hand into the wall as hard as he can. It's just his palm, but it still leaves a dent. "No, no, I would have known, I would have stopped it, _no."_ He doesn't even know why he's so upset. Loki was just quiet and didn't fit in.

Bruce flinches. "Okay," he says quietly. "There wasn't anything."

"I'm sorry," Thor says, aghast. "I'm sorry about the wall. Bruce, what if I'm wrong? What do I _do?"_

What if the time for him to do anything has passed? If someone hurt Loki in some way, the damage is done.

"It was just a thought," Bruce says. "I don't know anything. I just thought maybe--I mean, it just seemed like the last straw. It just seems disproportionate, but I, I didn't, I...I'm just thinking the worst, I shouldn't have been thinking the worst."

Normally he wouldn't back down on this, except it's not quite his business and he doesn't want to change. Not for this conversation. _Please not for this conversation._

"I don't know," Thor says, honestly. "It never occurred to me that anyone would have hurt him. I just never thought of it. And why would I?" His mouth twists. "I was so lucky. I never saw the worst of what Asgard was until it was too late for me to help anyone who saw it sooner."

Bruce ducks his head and counts under his breath, one to ten. "You know he's hurt now," he mumbles at the table. "Has he ever called it that?"

"No," Thor whispers. "Not in honesty. Is that better? That I know now, now that I have no hope of fixing it?"

Bruce picks up his head and looks Thor in the eye. "You have to decide if you're giving up or not," he says. "If you're not, you have to listen. You have to keep listening until it hurts him, until he stops lying and trying to hurt you and tells you the truth. You can't just tell him about your feelings and hope that does it." He puts his head down. "But it's up to you."

Thor nods, mindful of how tense Bruce is, and says, "I'm not giving up. I'll listen. Next time I see him, I'll listen. For you." He reaches out slowly and puts his hand on Bruce's shoulder. "You make me better."

Bruce shivers. "Is your hand okay?" he asks. He's still tense, but he's on the edge of the adrenaline now, and he just wants to collapse.

"Fine," Thor says. He smiles and rubs Bruce's shoulder gently. "I suppose it's only fair I dent our walls as well." He leans in and kisses Bruce's cheek to show him it's all right.

Bruce says, "Do you realize what shit it will be if I'm right?"

Thor nods. "Yes. I...I may have to hurt people more than any of you would like."

"In that case?" Bruce says. "Hurt away." He grabs Thor's hand, like an anchor.

Thor covers Bruce's hand with his. "Whatever happens, I'm glad to have you with me," he says. He doesn't know what to say to Loki or how to wait for Loki to say the right things, but at least he has someone there to keep him from falling apart with worry and rage, or bringing the sky crashing down.

Bruce stirs himself and smiles. "Yeah, I'm around. I like you, it turns out."

"And I like you," Thor says, letting himself smile back.


	12. jan and clint trade myth and gossip

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Man, all I want to do today is find _one enemy_ I'm allowed to actually dislike. Not all of this tragic backstory got-no-agency bullshit."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Warnings: references to rape, sex with horses, and eating hearts

Clint corners Hank as he's coming down a hallway. No one else is in this hallway, which makes it ideal.

"Hey, Hank!" he says cheerfully. Hank panics with the belief that he's supposed to respond in a friendly way to a friendly voice, and makes the drastic error of looking up.

"Clint..." he says with a wary smile.

"So how's it going in the lab?" Clint asks. "I hear that guy's only tried to kill any of us, like, three times in the last thirty-six hours."

"I'm not really supposed to," Hank says.

"What? _Disclose_ important information to your _team?"_

"Um," says Hank.

Jan appears, coming down the hallway with Natasha in tow (Jan is walking faster for once--short legs, speedy stride), and she's going fast enough that she nearly trips into Hank. Just in a day's work, then.

"Hi," she says loudly. "Whatcha fighting about?" She's not sure they are, but that would be interesting. Then again, Hank is hardly ever interesting.

"Hiya, Jan. Hi, Tasha. I was pointing out to Ant Man, here, that if that guy in the lab is going to keep trying to kill us, maybe we should know a little something about him? Like, Bucky? Seriously? Do we even know it's really him? I mean, cause if it isn't, it's a pretty bad imitation."

"He doesn't look much like the action figures," Jan admits. She doesn't know if there are actually action figures. Probably. "But seriously," she says, "who _else_ would it be? He talks like a cartoon and acts like _way_ too much of an asshole to be trying to get into our good graces."

"Psycho assholes, that's our thing now," Clint says, rolling his eyes. "Like we weren't surrounded by crazy people before, no offense, you guys, I mostly mean _everyone else_. Except you, Hank. But I mean, now we've got Bucky the one-armed wonder-killer, not to mention Thor's brother the shaggy murderous dog? Seriously, how many of you have secret dudes, or sometimes-ladies, or whatever, lurking in your backstories waiting to _kill us?"_

"Hey," says Hank reproachfully.

"Well, not me," Jan says cheerfully. "But yeah, kinda wondering what I signed on for. But the main thing right now is to help Steve, right? And Thor and Bruce and Tony and...Wow, you're right." She sighs. It kind of sucks sometimes to be on a team full of sad people.

"I think we'll be able to fix Bucky up just fine!" Hank puts in excitedly. Maybe he can finish a sentence without Clint insulting him. That would be nice. Clint is a rude kid. "I've been looking over my data, and there are some nasty bits of rewiring in his head, but I'm pretty sure a good mix of meds and a brief jaunt into a rightly calibrated machine of mine will get him right as rain!"

"Are you a psychiatrist at all?" Clint says. "Like with a degree?"

Hank looks wounded.

"It sounds pretty legit, messing around with people's brains," Jan agrees. "Maybe we should talk to someone who knows more about it. Maybe?" She shrugs at the others, especially Natasha, who clearly knows way more about this than anyone has a right to.

"Do we know any psychiatrists?" Hank asks. "What, like, Charles Xavier."

"You can't just name a famous person, Clint," Hank says. He's a little put out that his skills are in doubt.

"He's not famous; he's real," Jan says. "But whatever. I guess we've trusted you this long. And it's not like he's going to get _worse._ Because he's pretty much as bad as people get. I hope." She shifts from foot to foot, feeling kind of bad for talking this way about poor, sad, assassin Bucky.

Natasha breaks her stony silence to say, "He will be all right. And believe me, that _is_ James Barnes. What Hank is doing is the right thing. I just hope that it works." She shrugs and subsides.

"Believe you why?" asks Clint bluntly. "Maybe he's your closet-murderer as well as Cap's?"

"We'll have in a DNA sample from the Smithsonian at _any_ time now," Hank strives.

"So, does that mean this is going to be public knowledge?" Jan asks. But truth be told, she's more interested in Clint's line of questioning. Natasha is glaring at him in a really alarming way.

"Of course not!" Hank says. "I made a request of a friend on Steve's behalf of a personal item he wished to see. My friend's obliging us. There's no publicity."

"But how do _you know_ it's Bucky?" Clint asks Natasha again. 

Jan nods to Hank and gives his arm a squeeze to let him know he did good, and turns to blink at Natasha as well.

She sighs. "We were...acquainted. At one point in my very long, very private past."

"Ugh," Clint says. "You're no fun. So Hank's going to fix crazy James, and then what? Is he gonna get in some kind of threesome with Stark and Cap?"

"Uh, _no?"_ Jan says. She crosses her arms like she's above it all and totally didn't have that thought. That's the difference between her and Clint. She has a filter. "That's totally creepy and mean."

"He will be heartbroken, though," Natasha says lightly. "It seems he was always very soft when it came to certain things."

"Shit!" Clint says. "So they were really a thing? I was just fishing. Are you sure about no threesomes? If I were into that, that would be pretty hot. I mean assuming Bucky doesn't keep trying to kill people."

"He's not going to try to keep killing people," Hank says, aggrieved, trying not to blush at all this talk.

Natasha narrows her eyes. " _Their business,_ Clint," she says.

"And now, everyone's," Jan amends smugly. "So, Steve was gay in the past after all? You'd think he'd be a little better at it now. I mean, you can hardly tell that he is. Ha ha. Kidding."

"Right?" Clint says. "Except for the moon eyes he and Tony are always making after meetings. Do you think they have actually managed to screw yet? Two of the most awkward people on the planet, I swear. I love 'em."

"Oh my god," Jan says, ignoring Natasha's reproachful glare. "I'll bet, yeah. It's been ages. They must have. Do you think it was weird? They're _so awkward."_

"Stop it," Natasha says, but without much conviction. Clearly she knows how it is.

"Do you think Cap even knows how to? You know, with those...parts and all?" Clint asks Jan. He's whisper-shouting. It's like being discreet.

"PLEASE STOP," Hank says loudly, blushing to his ears. "I need to--I need to go now."

"Oh, whoa, hey," Jan says refocusing quickly. She _hates_ making Hank uncomfortable. "Let's go over those tests you ran on Bucky, okay? Tasha probably wants to see you explain the results."

Natasha is nodding without prompting. "Yes, I would like that. In fact, I can go with you now, if Jan wishes to stay here."

"Yes," Hank says. "Thanks. That would be great. I wish Dr. Banner were here too, but I guess he's indisposed."

"Every time his boyfriend’s deadbeat brother shows up, right?" Clint asks, ears perking. Hank gives him a stern look.

"How do you think _that_ went?" Jan asks, but in a low voice. She pats Hank's arm absently to even things out.

Hank smiles distractedly at Jan and then nods to Natasha. "Let's go," he says.

"Happily," she says. "Jan. Try not to stir up trouble where it is unwanted."

Jan laughs. "Between the two of us, you're going to lecture _me?_ But okay." She punches Clint's arm. "No trouble-stirring, hotshot."

Hank hurries off with Natasha behind him. As soon as they're out of earshot, Clint leans in and says, "What do you know about this Loki guy anyway? Aside from, like, mythology, and the fact that he messed up Bruce fucking Banner for like, a week."

"Oof," Jan says. "Quite a bit, I guess. Besides the fact that he works himself into crazy rages when people are dicks to him...Well, I guess I know he maybe gave birth to a horse this one time, and his dad rides it, and everyone was mean to him when he was a kid. I think."

"First, ew," says Clint. "Horses. Second, of course they were mean to him when he was a kid, he's fucking crazy."

"Eh, cause, effect, effect, cause," Jan says a little uncomfortably.

"It's sort of weird to hear you being an apologist in this situation," Clint says. "Didn't he threaten to kill you? With like...his hand?"

"I'm not saying he's not _insane,"_ Jan says. "Obviously. I'm just saying I can see how he got that way if he grew up in a crazy culture of people who did things like fuck you with horses and ride your babies." She's surprised at how strongly she feels about this.

"Okay," Clint says, a little startled. "Point taken. Wait, no, I want to know, I _don't want to know,_ I know he's a chick sometimes but how, with a horse, _never mind."_

"Never mind," Jan agrees, annoyed. "Whatever it was, it must have sucked, right? And I don't know how gods age, exactly, but either he lived with stuff like that for a while, or he's as young as he looks. And either way..." She shudders.

"Ew," says Clint again. "Okay. Point definitely taken. Man, all I want to do today is find _one enemy_ I'm allowed to actually dislike. Not all of this tragic backstory got-no-agency bullshit."

"Doctor Doom," Jan suggests, nudging Clint's foot with her toe. "Hopefully. Only not really, if he and Loki are...roomies."

"Oh my god," Clint says, "I would love it if Loki and Doctor Doom are shacking up. Like the most volatile baby-faced horse-bearing god, plus the psycho Tin Man of Pride Rock? That I would pay to see. Except not if it's porn."

"I'll bet it's porn," Jan says decisively. "Loki's pretty into sex, right? At least in the myths. Hank says. He's always eating hearts and having babies and stuff."

"Christ," Clint says. " _Why_ exactly is Thor always acting so surprised that his kid brother is all messed up? Do you think he'll eat Doctor Doom's heart? Oh god, can you imagine the babies?"

"Yuck," Jan says. "I'd rather not. Seriously, though, I feel so bad for him. I think he should be locked up because he's crazed and murderous, but there's clearly a reason. I don't know how Thor missed it. It can't be _news."_

"Huh," Clint says. "Asgardians, huh? Basically alien freakshows."

"Tell Thor that," Jan says. "But seriously, don't. He'll get offended and we won't be able to be friends with you anymore. You know, I'll bet Hank would love all this. He's always trying to use therapy on our enemies. We should use some on Loki. And by _we,_ I mean Hank."

"Yeah, we should totally do that," Clint says. "If we want Hank to be _dead._ I like Hank, don't get me wrong, but the guy does not have the level of emotional insight he thinks he has. People aren't ants, it's hard for him. He would ask Loki about his childhood or whatever and Loki would stab him with god magic."

Jan laughs. "Okay, point. So I guess we just hope whatever Thor did works. Although I can't really see Loki leaving us alone, especially if Thor's as good at being a huge idiot to Loki as he is at being a huge idiot to everyone else." Thor is great, but he's about as tactful as Hank.

"What exactly is Loki's deal now?" Clint asks. "I mean, the only thing we ever hear about is his great new _screw with the Avengers_ hobby. Does he have anything else going on? I mean except getting laid with Doctor Doom. Cause if this is the only thing he's got going on, I don't think Thor being the best brother in the whole world would make him give it _up."_

"Well, he must have had other stuff before us, right?" Jan says. _Obviously._ "Who knows how long he's been going around being the god of mischief?" She's still a little unclear on how that works. "But Thor claims the crazy is new."

"Then sure, great, yeah, I'm positive Thor is gonna give an amazing talking-down speech and then Loki will be adorable again and he'll stop trying to kill us." Clint rolls his eyes.

Jan pauses. "I think he thinks that," she says quietly. "Thor, I mean."

Clint sighs. "Well, he does love his baby brother," he says. "That's how it works when you love somebody, isn’t it? You get in a fight and wait awhile and it's all okay again?"

Jan almost wants to give him a hug, but that would be weird. "Uh huh," she says. "Except maybe when the person you love is a horribly traumatized baby god."

"Ugh," says Clint. "This is depressing. I didn't corner Hank in a hall for depressing. Come to think of it, I should probably stop trying to find out fun gossip at work. Everyone here is just a constant state of ruin, it really bums me out."

"Not me!" Jan says. She totally feels his pain. "I don't exactly have thrilling gossip about myself, but you can safely make some up without stumbling on land mines of sorrow."

Clint brightens. "Can I tell everyone your dad's money came from a deal with alien fugitives? Can I tell people we're dating on the sly?"

"Weird and _weird,"_ Jan says firmly. "And actually pretty gross. No offense." It's not that she wouldn't date boys (maybe? moot point, anyway), but she definitely wouldn't date Clint.

"Oh, thanks," Clint says without offense. "Listen, I should go, not because I'm running away from the harsh sting of the insult you've given me, but because I am supposed to have some bonding time with Steve and some weapons. Good chatting, Wasp."

Jan pats his shoulder. "Good Clint. Okay, catch you later. I'd better check on Tasha and Hank, my two favorite people who hate each other." Neither one of them probably cares enough to hate the other one, actually.

"God, except for the depressing factor, this is the best team _ever,"_ Clint says fervently. "Anyway! Catch ya!" He sketches a wave and wanders off.


	13. nick fury is not amused

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, Tony's a great team leader.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Warnings: references to alcohol abuse

"From what I gather," says Nick Fury from behind his desk, hands folded, _not_ amused, "there's been quite a lot of hubbub in your little team lately, Tony. Hubbub that's not about fighting the criminal masterminds of New York. Do you want to tell me a little bit about that?"

Tony really doesn't want to. He hasn't had enough sleep--Okay, that's normal, but he's had it at all the wrong hours. Then he had too much coffee. And some stuff. Everything is a little sideways.

"Not really," Tony says. No brain-to-mouth filter, as usual. And as usual, Nick doesn't look impressed.

"That's a pity," says Fury. "You're going to anyway. Now, my understanding is you've had a few guests around the place lately. A couple visitors from Asgard? And someone spotted Steve Rogers carrying what looked like the body of a white male in his twenties into the Tower. You were there. Maybe you could tell me what that was all about, in a way that's a little _less_. incriminating."

Tony sighs. "Yeah. You're thorough. Or a stalker! I'll bet you didn't think of yourself that way. So, turns out Bucky Barnes is alive. I'll bet you five hundred dollars that isn't news to you, though." He tries and fails not to sound bitter.

"Actually," says Fury, his eyebrows stuck up about as high as they can go, his brow wrinkled, his eye patch pushed into an uncomfortable position that he obviously does not acknowledge, "that is news to me. Last I heard he was a hallucination in Steve Roger’s peripheral vision. What the hell is Bucky Barnes doing alive and young?"

"Huh," Tony says. "I guess I'm out five hundred bucks. We're not exactly sure, to be honest. We think he was a Soviet assassin and spy kept in some variety of cold storage and brainwashed to do what they wanted. Including kill Steve. But we're working on fixing that." He flashes Nick a desperate grin and hopes really hard that Nick doesn't kill him before he gets to the part about Loki.

" _Huh,"_ says Fury emphatically. "You've got Hank Pym working on that? Bruce Banner?"

Tony flinches. "Nick, Nick, Nick. You are really on the ball. Bruce is dealing with Thor, I think. Who is upset. About Loki. Who keeps possibly trying to kill us."

Yeah, Tony's a great team leader.

"My life used to be so simple," Fury says, in a tone that makes it impossible to interpret. "One thing at a time, Tony. Is Pym on Bucky Barnes's brainwashing?"

"Yes," Tony says. He hates how Nick makes him feel robotic and subdued. Not many people can manage both. "He's on it. And Natasha's helping, since, you know, Soviet things."

"Good," Fury says. "You need security detail."

Tony grits his teeth and makes it look like a _smile._ "Nick," he says patiently, "we _are_ a security detail. I think we'll be fine. I have my team handled." _My_ team. In case Fury forgets.

"You'll wear _your team_ out if you keep half of them up all hours watching one man," Fury says. "I'm as happy as anyone to hear Bucky Barnes is alive, but playing babysitter club with the past _isn't_ your mission. There's other stuff going on that you're supposed to be taking care of, Tony. Right now you're not looking too necessary to SHIELD, because we're picking up all of your slack."

Something in Tony's head goes from _stop lecturing me like I'm a kid_ to _you remind me of_ to, "Hey, _listen,_ Nick. This is my team. And we don't need you micromanaging us anymore. You may have helped put us together, but we don't answer to you, and we sure as hell don't answer to SHIELD."

"'Anymore'?" Fury says sardonically. "We've left you a long leash, Tony, but you know better than to pretend you're not on one. You better start proving you're not just a bunch of overpowered egomaniacs endangering civilians through your personal problems, or I won't be the only one calling you out."

All the things Tony hates collide with all the things that scare him, and somewhere in there, he remembers how to be Tony Stark, Billionaire Playboy, Spoiled Little Rich Girl, and Liar.

He smiles, no gritted teeth. "Sure thing, Nick. We'll get on that. Don't worry, we'll start sending you regular"--he waves his hands in the air vaguely--"reports."

No one is going to take his team, _their team_ away.

"What about security on Bucky Barnes?" Fury persists, steely.

"You know I have an entire security team, right?" Tony says. That he doesn’t use. "Don't worry, Nick. You worry too much. I'll have Happy and Pepper coordinate something."

"See that you do," Fury says. "See that I know about it. What are you doing to coordinate _Loki?"_

Tony doesn't hesitate. "Already on it. Thor's got it squared away. If he gives us trouble again, you might consider taking it up with Asgard. I wouldn't be surprised to find out you've got a private line on that."

Fury glitters at him inscrutably. "How exactly has Thor got it _squared away?_ Last I heard, little brother wasn't interested in tidy little ceasefires, and _your team_ was courting disaster by wandering into Latverian territory without permission from Victor Von Doom. I expect he'll take it up with you before I take anything up with Asgard."

Tony holds up his hands. Fury makes him so tense he goes right out the other side and starts functioning really fast, which is great.

(But _god,_ he wants a drink.)

"Hey, Doom isn't our problem. We can't fight him in Latveria or it'll cause an international incident. We can't fight him here because he has diplomatic immunity. If you want us to deal with Loki, you need to do something about Doom."

"Don't tempt me. Doom is a thorn in everybody's side, and he gets away with murder. I'm not gonna say that isn't infuriating. But Loki doesn't have diplomatic immunity from Latveria, Asgard, or--whatchamacallit, the place where Frost Giants come from? Anyway. He shows up around here, you can take him down, legally. And that's what you _should be doing,_ Tony, not chatting at him until he backs off and tries again later."

"Look," Tony snaps, "I don't know if you'd noticed, Nick, but Loki's a _god._ You try killing him. We're working on it, trust me, but it's not like we're being handed ways."

"I'm merely suggesting," Fury says easily, "that perhaps a more coordinated effort that didn't involve Thor's familial attachments might be a little more effective."

Tony's never been a hundred percent comfortable with that idea (Loki is a _mess_ ), and now he knows he hates it. "Like I said, we're on it," he says. "We have some ideas. Next time he shows up, we'll hit him with everything we have. Keeping Thor out of the way if necessary."

"That's what I like to hear," Fury says. "As well you know. All right. Get out of here, Tony. Get organized. Get back to me. You don't like being in my office, I don't like you in my office, let's make that less of an issue, all right?"

"All right," Tony says. He points his finger like a gun and escapes before he panics.

"All right," says Nick Fury.


	14. steve quells the nick fury in tony's heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He puts his hands firmly on Tony's hips and waits.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Warnings: mental health instability, references to past abuse, explicit consensual steve/tony sex

Steve feels a hell of a lot better after an hour of light sparring with Clint. Clint is about as far as you can get from a serious guy who wants to talk about serious issues, and when they're training hard, he can't even quip that much. Steve needed the reprieve.

His head feels a lot clearer by the time they finish. "Thanks for this," he says, clapping Clint on the shoulder.

"Yeah, same," says Clint. "I needed the workout. How're you doing, though? This week hasn't exactly been relaxing."

Steve laughs. "No, it hasn't. I think I'm doing fine." He thinks that's true, at the moment. If he doesn't think too _hard_ about anything. "Better now that we seem to have a handle on what's going on with Bucky," he adds.

"Right? Good thing Hank's nerd powers are a force for good. Although he's really unnerving sometimes, you know? At least Banner is a problem because he's a man of great emotion. Pym, you never know if he's gonna remember you're sentient before he plugs you into some machine."

"I don't think that's quite fair," Steve says. He has to admit that Hank makes him a little nervous, though. He trusts scientists, but he doesn't understand them. He remembers that Bucky doesn't trust them at all, and he feels much worse.

"Yeah?" Clint asks. "Well, you've probably got a point. I mean, he likes ants, right, and they're not sentient. Anyway, my point is, he builds a lot of weird stuff and at least some of it is gonna help, I bet. I said we should call Professor X!"

Steve frowns. He's not sure he likes everything he's heard about Professor X, even though he's heard it from Tony, who is probably biased. 

"We shouldn't involve the X-Men in our business," he says. "They probably have enough of their own trouble." 

From what he's heard, that's true. And he's still not entirely sure how he's supposed to feel about the Mutant situation. That seems to be something else that's changed without anyone thinking to mention it to him.

"Yeah, but then I could get into their business back," Clint says cheerfully. He actually does think before he continues-- "Hey, Cap, how's the triangle? You know, the Bucky thing plus the Tony thing. I mean obviously crazy Loki hasn't been breaking him out to kill Tony any more times, but that doesn't mean everyone's feeling great all of a sudden."

"Uh," Steve says. "Do you mean--?" But of course Clint means. "Well, I don't know what anyone's mentioned, but that's really private business." Steve realizes he's blushing furiously.

"Oh! Obviously. Yeah," Clint says. "I, uh. I think maybe we just assumed? I mean once we knew you were a little queer, cause of Tony and all, the Bucky thing seemed. Sorta."

"Well, it's not," Steve says, flustered. Then he catches himself and realizes he's saying something that would upset Bucky _and_ Tony and says, "I mean, it is. I am. But it's not really up for public discussion. I really hoped I was done with people talking about my personal life in public after the war."

"Hey," Clint says. "No worries. We're not _in_ public. Listen, I'm a fucking gossip, everybody knows that, but you think I'd _ever_ talk in public about _any_ of us? Fuck right off. Uh. Captain America, sir."

Steve gives him a shaky smile. "I...Yeah, I know. I appreciate that. Forgive me if I'm a little wary, especially after the way you were about Tony." He crosses his arms and looks meaningfully at Clint, just in case Clint has forgotten.

Clint laughs. "I am never not gonna offend someone," he says. "I'm sorry I bugged him that bad, though."

"Don't worry," Steve says, "I think I bugged him worse. That's the only reason I was so hard on you." It's actually far from the _only_ reason, but Steve would be lying if he said it wasn't a factor.

"But he's okay, right?" Clint says. "I mean, not with me, I think he's okay with me, but with Bucky and stuff? He's been getting kind of--overwhelmed. Y'know?"

"I don't know," Steve says, frowning. "I can't always tell when he's okay and when he's not, because I don't think his baseline is ever--" He stops, a little appalled at what he's saying. Is he saying that _Tony is not usually okay?_

He swallows and says firmly, "I think he'll be fine. We've all had a hard few days."

Clint winces. "Not what I was hoping to hear. Hey, when you see him tonight, can you kind of let it slip maybe that I was saying what a good guy he is? I like being on his team, I mean, I did SHIELD, they were efficient, they were bastards. People are nice here. Tony's a good guy. Don't say I told you to say so."

Steve chuckles, charmed. "I'll fit it in somewhere." He thinks maybe Tony really needs to hear a few things like that. "I should go and make sure he's taking it easy," he says. "Although possibly I should shower first. Sparring with you is quite a workout."

"Good!" says Clint. "I mean, wow. I mean, I try, but super soldier versus dainty archer. Don't call me dainty archer, by the way, but. Thanks. My ego feels great now."

Steve laughs. Making Clint feel better makes him feel better, and this little break from dealing with trouble makes everything seem more manageable.

"I'm glad," he says. "I'd say everyone on this team could take on about everyone else, except maybe when it comes to Thor."

"Thor is a beast," Clint says. "Thor doesn't even count. Although he's not...looking so good this week either. Do you think he will ever stop being shocked that his kid brother is a dick now?"

"I hope so," Steve says. "Eventually he’ll have to. But it can't be easy for him. I can't even imagine what he's feeling right now." Then he thinks about Bucky and realizes that maybe he can.

Clint thinks about all the shit he and Jan were talking, about how messed up Loki is. "Jan and I," he starts, and chooses the least intense route, "were saying we both feel pretty bad for Loki, too, all this murderous, shacking-up-with-Doom rage aside. That is one seriously screwed-up family."

Steve frowns. "Really? But Thor seems so normal. I know he doesn't get along with his father, but I don't know many people who do. I thought Loki was just a...well, a bad seed."

"Did Hank tell you that Odin rides an eight-legged horse?" Clint asks. This kind of sums up the issue for him. It's _gross._

"No," Steve says firmly. Then he thinks about it. "Why? It's probably just one of those...magical so-called god things. Right?"

"Yeah, if by _magical so-called god_ you mean _Loki's actual offspring._ More like bad steed."

" _What?"_ Steve says. "Clint, that's--that's terrible!" His immediate reaction is _what can we do about this?_ but clearly they can't.

"That is kind of what I am saying," Clint agrees. "Shit, at this point I'm pretty sure half the team wants to adopt the kid. God. Whatever."

"What he's done is still wrong," Steve says stubbornly. "But it sounds as though growing up in Asgard is a whole mess of trouble. I'm surprised Thor's so normal." _Normal_ isn't exactly the word, but at least Thor is usually happy enough.

"Yeah, well," Clint shrugs. "Anyway, I'm not trying to put a damper on your relaxation hour. Long short, everybody needs to chill out, drink a smoothie, sit on a couch and not have a crisis for five minutes."

"I'll try to remember that," Steve sighs. "A smoothie. Well, I should make sure Tony's doing all right. You know how he gets." Steve realizes too late that he sounds like a fond spouse.

"Oh, sweetie," says Clint. "Sure, yeah, see you around. Maybe call us if there's an emergency. You know." He wanders away still talking, looking forward to his shower and wondering who else he can talk to about everyone being so messed up.

Steve waves vaguely and goes off in search of Tony. Tony can come before the shower, since Steve is now unnerved about Loki and worried about Tony.

~

Steve's quest to find Tony doesn't go very well. He checks their--Tony's?-- apartment, but the lights are off and no one is there. He checks his apartment, just in case, but he has no luck there, either.

If he wasn't already worried, he is now.

Then he remembers the other place Tony often goes, especially if he's stressed or tired of talking to people. Steve isn't sure he's allowed to intrude, but he's feeling unsettled and really needs to talk. By the time he makes his way to Tony's workshop, he wishes he'd showered instead, just to give himself time to calm down.

Tony has reached the sleeves-rolled-up phase of working on a project, and there are scribbles on paper sitting on every nearby surface, obscuring the view of the half-started 3D models he's building with JARVIS. At the moment he is staring at one of the glowing blue things, twirling a ratcheting socket wrench around his finger. He doesn't see Steve come in.

"Tony," Steve says. He doesn't like it when Tony gets like this. It's as though he's a million miles away and Steve has no idea how to bridge the gap.

Tony is startled, but all he does is flinch and say, "Yeah?" without looking up.

" _Tony,"_ Steve repeats. He comes closer, feeling as though he's invading a fortress. "Are you busy?" Stupid question.

"Yup, just a little, at the moment," Tony says. He drops the wrench on the floor and brings up another model beside the first. This one is bigger, and also more complete. Stark Industries stopped making the real version five years ago.

"Well, I'd like to talk," Steve presses. "Did you know this about Loki? About the horse and all that?" He's really just saying things to break through to Tony.

Tony looks up sharply. "What about Loki?" he says. He needs to get this done, he needs to figure out what has any likelihood of working and he needs to take Loki down before someone gets killed or Nick Fury takes apart Tony's _team._

"Tony?" Steve says, frowning. "Hey. Is something wrong?" The problem is that Tony goes through spells of working like this whether or not something's wrong. Like Steve told Clint, "okay" isn't a useful way of measuring Tony.

"No," Tony says. "Naw. Had to go see Nick a while ago. He said his usual...stuff. About how we're not organized enough, and we're wasting our time on personal problems. You know." He winces, and then starts picking parts off of the weapon on his display. It would be better to _contain_ energy than try to knock Loki out by releasing it. They need a net, basically.

"Then something is wrong," Steve says firmly. "Nick's an...unpleasant man, Tony. Don't let him get to you. I know that's easier said than done, but this team is _good._ And you're good. Clint was just saying that," he adds awkwardly.

Tony stops what he's doing to look up skeptically. "Sure he was," he says. "Clint respects me so much, I know. Anyway, it doesn't matter how good we are if we don't _do_ any."

"Stop," Steve says. He puts his hand on Tony's shoulder. "You've worked yourself into a mood where you won't believe anything's all right, but it _is._ We're doing well with Bucky. And we're doing what we can about Loki, but he's a god, Tony. And it's a complicated situation, apparently."

Tony frowns. "It's a _difficult_ situation, Steve, but it's not _that complicated._ I know all about Thor's feelings, but that's too bad. Loki's a danger to Earth, and he either needs to move on or get taken down."

"He's mostly a danger to _us,_ at the moment," Steve says. He hates it when Tony's eyes get sharp and glittery like this. "And I'm sorry, but no one's being 'taken down' in any sort of permanent fashion until we discuss it with Thor. I've been hearing some really distressing things about Loki's upbringing. Maybe he needs a help."

And maybe he needs to be taken down. But not before they all discuss it.

"Yeah, poor kid!" Tony snaps. "Hey, I didn't realize you were giving the orders for the group."

 _Damn Nick Fury,_ Steve thinks violently. "We're a _team,_ Tony. You may be the leader, but you're allowed to accept a little help once in a while. That's the only way we'll function. And trust me, we can function." He squeezes Tony's shoulder for emphasis.

"We're not going to function very well if we just sit back feeling sorry for every guy with a sob story who storms in here trying to kill us," Tony says. His words are getting away from him. He already regrets it when he's saying it, he wants to drag it back and say that Bucky is okay, but it just spills out. He pulls up another old plan, half-finished, and stares at it so hard his eyes start to prickle.

Steve goes very quiet. Then he says, "What do you think we should do instead, Tony?"

Too much. 

"I DON'T KNOW," Tony shouts, waving his arms. They smash through the models, but the models just blip and revert to being whole, obnoxiously untouchable. "Maybe we could try to actually put someone in prison!"

"And is that what we should have done with Bucky?" Steve asks softly. "Because we didn't do that. We tried to help. And it's _working."_

"As far as you _know,"_ Tony says, dizzy and frightened at the look on Steve's face. "You don't know how many triggers they planted, Steve! You don't know if Hank's cures are going to last or if he'll lapse back. _You don't know."_

Steve gets further into Tony's space. His hands are shaking. "And _if that happens?"_

"What do you want me to say?" Tony says defensively, taking a step back. "That we'll keep him around because he's your _friend_ the assassin? That I _want_ to put Bucky fucking Barnes in prison? _What do you want me to say?"_

"I want you to _listen,"_ Steve says. "There isn't always a better way. I know that. I was at war; you think I don't know that? But as long as there's a chance of helping these people, that's what we're going to do. That's what this team is and who you are, no matter what Nick Fury tries to make you into. You got that, soldier?"

"What I am is _useless,"_ Tony says. "I'm not leading this team anywhere!" Oh, no, he didn't mean to--he can't say that, he can't say something like that even to Steve, especially not to Steve.

Steve grabs Tony by both shoulders. "Now, you listen to me, Tony Stark. This team wouldn't _exist_ without you. You're one of the bravest men I've ever met, and a genius, too. Don't you dare tell yourself you can't do this. You _are_ doing this."

Tony stares at him, stopped in his tracks. "I," he says. "I was going to make a weapon. For Loki. But I don't know enough."

A chill runs down Steve's spine, but he doesn't let Tony see. "One thing at a time. We should talk to Thor about how things went with Loki before we do anything drastic."

"Right," Tony says. "Of course. I wasn't--oh, god, Steve," he mumbles damply. "What am I doing?"

"You're just running a little hot," Steve says, pulling Tony into a hug. "It's all right now."

Tony can't really stand Steve being this nice, this forgiving, this understanding when Tony doesn't even know for sure what he's doing that _requires_ understanding. Steve holding him is warm and nice and horrifying, because no matter what Steve says, he's still young and strong and _tall_ and he doesn't have the scars.

"Why do you want me to save Loki, now?" he asks. This day can only get a certain quantity of worse. Might as well get it all out.

"Some of the things Clint has been hearing," Steve murmurs into Tony's hair. "It sounds as though Loki's youth was a little...he—well. He _gave birth._ To a _horse._ Which Odin rides. Now, I don't understand how any of that works, but maybe we should give Thor a chance to try to deal with Loki some other way."

"Wait, what?" Tony says. "You didn't just say the thing I thought you--no, of course you did. That is how it works. The guy who turned into a wolf to coerce my boyfriend's ex into killing me once gave birth to a horse that his dad uses as convenient transportation. Of course he does. Right. Point taken." Point taken, and also Tony feels like a jerk, now, because he'd _already_ felt kind of bad for Loki. Until he'd talked to Nick, anyway.

"I know it doesn't really change anything," Steve says, rubbing the small of Tony's back with his thumb. "He’s done awful things. But it's...well, like I said, complicated. Thor's feelings about it make a lot more sense now. We should be cautious."

"If you say so," Tony says. "I mean about Thor. The only thing he's ever talked about is Loki's expulsion from Asgard. And that he was adopted. There weren't exactly any crazy horse-making childhood stories in the version I heard."

Steve frowns. Now that the thinks about it, Clint didn't hear it from Thor, did he? And it can't be that Hank and Jan heard it from Thor, because he can't see Thor telling them anything like that.

"Oh, God," he says. "What if Thor doesn't know?"

"Or it might not be true," Tony says. "Come on, Steve, you know better than anyone that common knowledge can be a big fat lie." He shrugs, uneasy. "If it is true, though, and he doesn't know somehow--he's trying to fix something up with a little charm and honesty and he doesn't even know what the problem is."

Steve swallows. "We need to find out. We need to talk to Thor, and if he doesn't know...Well, I don't know. I suppose we talk to Loki next time he shows up."

Tony raises his eyebrows. "Oh, don't get me started on do-gooders who know your issues for you."

"Well, I don't know," Steve says, frustrated and uncomfortable. "I'm not really an expert on things like this. I don't think most of us are."

"I am," Tony says, grimacing. "If there's anything to this, Thor is going to be the only person who can deal with it at all, and given his apparent _total ignorance_ , that's gonna be rough."

Steve takes a deep breath. "You and Thor should talk about it, then. Once everyone's in the know. I mean, all we've heard are some vague rumors and even that...maybe he didn't _mind_ giving birth to a horse. Gods are strange."

"No kidding," Tony agrees. "Okay. I'll talk to Thor. I hope he doesn't smack me with his hammer for suggesting terrible things. But I guess it's gonna have to be hashed out, if any dealings we have with Loki are gonna go well."

Steve nods. "You're right. Well, good luck, I suppose." He stops and smiles. "Look how fast you got back on your feet. Don't ever call yourself useless again, mister."

It catches Tony on the raw. "Steve," Tony says plaintively.

It isn't _supposed_ to be plaintive.

"Easy," Steve says. He puts his hands firmly on Tony's hips and waits.

Tony leans into him with a little moan. "I don't have to go now," he says. He needs to wind down. He needs to be more all right before Steve leaves him, before he tries to ask Thor about potentially really terrible things.

"No, you don't," Steve says. "You're allowed to slow down once in a while. Just a reminder." He squeezes Tony's hips and leans in to kiss his jaw. "Mm. Your beard is itchy," he mutters.

Tony chokes out this little awkward laugh, and says, "You don't have to."

Steve frowns. "Don't have to what? Kiss you?"

"Um," Tony says. "I just meant. Beard. Itchy. You know." He _does not_ want Steve to not kiss him.

"I don't, actually," Steve says, kissing Tony's mouth quickly. "Know. I was just... saying. Is that all right?"

"Yes," Tony says quickly. He hates it, _hates it_ when his words come out all wrong. It was only supposed to--it wasn't supposed to mean anything, actually. "Yeah, yes, it's fine, I was just. I don't want to make you do anything that's not comfortable, that's all."

Steve isn't sure he has anything helpful to say, but he thinks maybe kissing Tony very hard will be helpful, so he does that.

After a couple of seconds Tony starts to relax. He wraps his arms around Steve's neck and sinks his weight into him. He needs this, he needs someone anchoring him, and he needs Steve to keep telling him he's all right and Steve's not leaving.

"Got you," Steve murmurs when he finally breaks the kiss. "I've got you. I won't always get everything right, so you have to help me, but as long as you want me here, I'm here. With you _and_ with this team. This is a good thing we’ve got here."

"Jesus, Steve," Tony says, voice cracking. "I--listen, you may find this completely tasteless, but I swear no one comes down here except sometimes Black Widow, and she's busy, so, ha, but, do you think you could possibly fuck me here? I might have some things," he adds hopefully, and starts guessing which things Steve would like and which would fill him with futuristic terror.

"Things," Steve says a little nervously. "Well, sure, Tony, that sounds great, but I'm not sure what..." He always feels very silly and out of his depth with these things.

"We'll go simple," Tony reassures him. "We can go...no things at all, even! It's just, workshop. Things. They're available. But only if you want." He would really, seriously be okay with just _Steve._

Steve takes a deep breath. "I'd like that," he says. "But you'll have to promise not to laugh if I don't know just what I'm doing." He wants to learn, for Tony and for himself. He's not going to make the mistakes he made with Bucky.

"Hah," Tony says. "I mean, oops, sorry, I wasn't laughing at you. I'm just--hang on." He ducks away from Steve and digs through a drawer that's mostly screwdrivers (the _worst joke)_ until he finds a vibrator he knew was stashed there.

"Uh," he says, sort of waving it at Steve like maybe that will obscure it enough to not be embarrassing, and hiding it in his hand at the same time. "Simple?"

Steve eyes it dubiously. "Um," he says. "Yes? Probably? Is that--I've never--Oh, God." He'd bury his face in his hands, but that might be more embarrassing.

Tony swallows, but it's not enough to stop the horrified animal hum that's coming out of him. "It's not scary. A lot of people who are totally normal in every way use them, I swear! It just, ah...it just feels nice." He feels a little anxious, saying that, because saying it makes him want it, and he's going to feel bad for being disappointed if Steve isn't up for it.

"Hey," Steve says. They can't _both_ panic, and he knows at least _he_ doesn't have any damn reason to. "I believe you. I've just never used one before. He blushes. "But it can't be that hard. Show me." Is this something people just _talk about_ in the future? It's always so hard to tell, with Tony, who talks about everything.

 _"Hnn,"_ says Tony. "Yes, okay, sure. I mean, you kind of have to lead up to it. Like, uh, just like with dicks that come attached? I mean, kiss me?"

Steve grabs him and kisses him, partly to stop both of them from talking and partly because he _really wants to._

Tony moans into Steve's mouth and grabs his arm with his free hand before skittering up to clasp his neck and pull him down. _More tongue._ And a little more teeth. Tony is awkwardly sure Steve got at least this much attitude from Bucky.

Steve wishes he could read Tony better, but body language still isn't his strong suit, unless it's a battle. He can tell something is off, though. Tony is nervous, obviously. Steve just isn't sure why, which of _many reasons_ it is this time.

He kisses Tony deeper and digs his nails into Tony's hips.

"Steve Steve Steve," Tony says, which is this horrible combination of the need to babble and the need for Steve and, a little, this tiny piece of Obie's inflection sneaking its way in exactly where Tony doesn't want it. Not that he wants it anywhere.

Tony tugs on Steve's sleeve and gestures (with the vibrator hand, jeez), towards one of his workbenches. There's only a little crap on it right now.

Steve nods, already breathing fast, and drags Tony over to the workbench. He's done this in less comfortable places; this will be fine. If he doesn't panic or do something stupid by accident.

"I've got you," he mutters, pushing Tony down gently.

"Oh, god, you really have," Tony says. "You really, really have." For want of a better choice, he sticks the vibrator between his thighs so he can struggle out of his shirt with less...struggle.

Steve helps Tony out of his shirt and gets rid of his own, too, to be fair. He's already surprised by how bright the reactor in Tony's chest is. He runs his fingers across Tony's stomach, then up to the edge of the reactor. "Beautiful," he whispers.

Tony feels sick with panic for a couple seconds before he can fight it down. It's not like Steve hasn't seen the reactor before, or touched it, even, but...

"No one's said _that_ before," he says with an it's-all-good grin. Well. No one who meant _Tony._

"Is it--is that okay?" Steve asks, suddenly worried. "You know what I meant, right?" He's not sure what he meant, but he knows that worrying about it too much will only make things worse. Bucky has left him even more off-balance than he already was.

Tony takes a deep breath. _Gotta use your words._ "New," he says. "Um. Usually if someone says something...like that...it's not real. So. I know you mean it. So it's new."

 _Oh, good._ Steve hasn't said something awful. He smiles and rakes a hand through Tony's hair. "Well, yeah. I mean it. You're really just...amazing, Tony, you're amazing." He clears his throat and forces himself not to look away.

"No I'm not," Tony says automatically. That's uncomfortable, especially in this position. He tries to nonchalantly grab the vibrator from between his legs and--hide it or something. "I mean. You are, too."

Steve takes the--vibrator, yikes, he knows this--out of Tony's hand firmly and holds it like he isn't terrified of it. "You _are,"_ he says. "Tony, you're a genius. You're hilarious. You're gorgeous. You're know how to make things work when nobody else can. Hell, anyone would be lucky to have you. I'm lucky." He's still blushing, but it matters less.

" _Oh,"_ Tony says, feeling starstruck. He clears his throat. "So. Hey. Come here. I want to touch you pretty much everywhere now."

Steve makes a small, strangled noise and kisses Tony, pressing against him and letting the vibrator dig into Tony's hip a little.

"Touch me more first," Tony says, kind of urgent. His hands are scraping down Steve's back, but he's not really sure about what he's doing with them. His brain is one giant misfire. Everything he's doing today is sending him off in wrong directions.

"You don't have to tell me twice," Steve whispers. Whatever Tony's doing feels amazing. Steve runs a hand up Tony's leg, stopping to squeeze his thigh hard.

"Oh, yes," Tony mutters, except it's not like muttering because it's _fast,_ every syllable he speaks is like babbling. "Steve, Steve, please, chest." He strokes down Steve's chest, to be clear, and pinches his nipple--not too hard, because he doesn't know what Steve likes yet, and he wants to do it _right._

Steve gasps loudly. "Oh, Tony, _yes."_ He reaches down and presses his thumb against one of Tony's nipples. Then he says to hell with it and just ducks his head to Tony's chest and _sucks._

Tony gasps, loudly. "Yesyesyes," he says, he always sounds so stupid, but who doesn't? Right? He flicks his finger over Steve's other nipple and palms his stomach. "C'mon, gotta _feel_ you."

"Yes," Steve says, only taking his mouth off Tony's nipple as long as it takes to get the word out. He moves so he's straddling him, and he uses his teeth, not too hard, experimental.

Tony whimpers and claws reflexively at Steve's arms and chest. "Too much, not enough," he moans. "Oh god, oh god, _pants_ , so sorry, you just got up here, but I need--please, please, pants, please, Steve."

"Of course," Steve says, rushed and clumsy. He straightens up and takes a step back to get rid of his own pants so he won't need to do it later. Or sooner.

Then he bends over Tony and undoes his pants, sliding them down off his hips more slowly than Tony would probably like. A spike of adrenaline catches Steve off-guard. He really wants this. Really wants Tony.

Tony makes all kinds of messy begging noises while Steve strips him ( _oh god)_ and finally just shoves his fist against his mouth to calm down. His other hand is digging into the bench. He is being so fucking good. Right? Right.

Steve pushes his hand against the front of Tony's boxers, hoping to hell he's still doing okay. But it seems like maybe he is. With his free hand, he touches Tony's chest again.

"Shit," Tony breathes. "I mean, good, oh god, you're so good." He tilts his head back and bucks against Steve's hand.

Steve changes the angle of his hand and rubs Tony a little faster. Even through the fabric, he can feel how wet Tony is. "Oh, God," he says. "you're so--" He doesn't know if he's allowed to say it or if he even _can_ without combusting, so he just touches Tony.

"Yeah, filthy," Tony agrees, pushing into Steve's touch. "You can. You can use the vibrator now, okay? I can-- _hnn_...I can set it where it's good."

Steve scrambles for it and manages to get his hands on it without looking too stupid in the process. He wants to see what this thing can do, especially with Tony already so _raw._

"Here," he says, pushing it into Tony's hand. "Show me. Then I can..."

"Boxers off," Tony says, numb-tongued. "I want--I want you to see me." Yeah, fine, about a third of him is terrified that Steve will remember he doesn't have the right kind of dick and go back to Bucky after all, and another fraction points out that if they're not careful, the vibrator on bare flesh is going to be too fucking much, but Tony wants to be _seen,_ damn it. He wants Steve to look at him and, and be _hungry._

Oh, _yes,_ Steve wants that. He strips Tony the rest of the way and swallows down a brief flash of panic. Tony looks _so good,_ but he doesn't know how to say that and have it be right. 

"Oh, God, you," is all he manages. "You're the best thing," he says, because Tony needs to know what he means.

 _Oh, no,_ Tony almost explains, but he just makes a noise without the words in it and grabs the vibrator from Steve. He turns it up halfway, it roars a little, he feels massively embarrassed.

"Uh," he says to Steve, wielding it, "You need to trust that this massively embarrassing object is worthwhile." He doesn't wait for an answer, just preempts one by angling the vibrator against his clit and pressing slowly down. He can't hold back a moan, but that's...really okay.

"Oh," Steve says. "Oh, oh, Tony." He hesitates for just a second before taking the vibrator from Tony and pressing down. His other hand is anchored to Tony's thigh, fingers digging in.

Tony whimpers, and his hands scrabble against Steve's skin, back and arms and chest and neck. "Steve, Steve, Steve, oh, god, please."

Steve experiments, changing the angle a little. "God," he whispers, "just _looking_ at you is enough."

"Shit," Tony gasps, and has to hope he can fake it so Steve thinks the tears in his eyes are just from overstimulation. Stupid Steve saying all these things Tony wants to hear. Steve can't know how much Tony wants to hear this stuff, can he? Tony hugs his knees against Steve's ribs and tightens his fingers in Steve's hair. 

"Not even gonna take long," he manages.

"Good," Steve says shakily, "I want, I want to see you, oh--" He needs to learn to say things, but he can't right now. He just turns the vibrator up a fraction, fuzzily pleased to have the hang of it.

Tony yelps and digs his nails into Steve's shoulders. "Yes yes yes, so close, come on, come on," he moans. He's jerking against the vibrator in Steve's hand, arching himself and writhing. This is so fast it's pathetic. Steve is so good it's pathetic. Tony is pathetic, but in this instance he doesn't care.

Steve tilts the vibrator a little and reaches up to pinch Tony's nipple hard. He's so dizzy he can barely think.

Tony says, " _Oh."_ He goes still for an unbreathing second, feeling everything center on _too much, too much, can't feel this good,_ and then he comes, yelling so loudly he's grateful there's no one else on this floor. He grabs at Steve and bucks against him, and finally slumps, groping for the vibrator and whimpering. 

"Did so good," he slurs, but he doubts if Steve can hear him.

Steve feels weak, both with relief at how good this is for Tony and with how much Steve _needs._

"I," he says clumsily, setting the vibrator down and running his hands aimlessly over Tony's chest, "Can I--? Something."

"Oh, anything," Tony mumbles enthusiastically. "You can fuck me, if you want, I think I'm good for--again." He shrugs, blushing a little. "Benefit of--you know. All this." He waves at his body and hopes (a little frenzied) that Steve _does_ know and he doesn't have to explain _right now._

Steve goes red all over again. "Oh, gosh--Um, yes." He clears his throat and tries to form a sentence an actual person might use. "I'd like that." That possibly sounds worse.

"I'd also like that," Tony says dryly. He runs his hands down Steve's chest and clutches at his hips for emphasis. And because it's nice. It is really nice. "You can, ah." He snorts at himself and tries again. "This time you can come inside?"

Steve practically whimpers. "Sure, if that's--sure." He shifts position again so he's poised over Tony, and he reaches down to touch him. Oh, God. Tony is wet and open and Steve can't wait anymore.

"Ready?" he asks, trying to be polite, even though he just want to _fuck_ Tony.

Tony laughs desperately. "I am so ready," he says. "Trust me, seriously, just, get in me, please." He has this whole line of other things his mouth wants to say, but looking at Steve he shuts up and just wants.

Steve shuts up and obeys, pushing in fast and hard. He gasps. "You feel--Oh, you feel so good, Tony, yes." He blinks at Tony and grabs his hips.

Oh, god. "Steve, Steve, _Steve,"_ Tony says, because apparently that's his only word, now. He didn't even know--he wasn't sure, he didn't think he could get _this_ worked up right away again, but Steve's cock is, Steve is, he's going in hard and he won't look away from Tony's face, and _oh god_ the sweat on his chest is just too much.

"You're. The most. Fucking. Gorgeous. Man. In the _world,"_ Tony gasps. Can you be fervent when you gasp? He's not sure. He feels fervent.

Steve shudders and shuts his eyes so he can let himself speak. "God, Tony, I love fucking you, it’s so tight, you’re so good, everything about you is, oh, I don't know how long I can--" He groans and makes himself slow down a little.

Tony grabs him. "Don't have to slow down!" he says. Begs. "I like it hard and fast, come on, _fuck me."_

Steve sobs out a breath and keeps fucking Tony with deep, hard thrusts. "Oh, Tony, I’m gonna come in you--" He's barely listening to himself talk now, thank God.

"Please!" shouts Tony. "Oh, god, oh fuck, come inside me, come on, come on, Steve, oh, _oh."_ He slams up against Steve's shoulders and clings there, whining and gasping and on the fucking edge.

Steve cries out, his hips stuttering as he grips Tony. Tony gulps and moans and grabs him back. 

"You're coming," he babbles, "Gonna come with you, gonna," and then he actually _feels Steve_ come in him.

"Oh, _god,"_ he whimpers, and he does come, better than the first time, fucking himself hard on Steve's cock and shouting until they're both limp and gasping.

Steve collapses on top of Tony, shaking. "The best," he whispers when he can finally speak again. "That was--wow. Wow, Tony." He shivers hard and nuzzles Tony's chin, which is still prickly and uncomfortable. It's perfect.

"Oh, god," Tony says, smiling. "I--that was really good. You don't know how, but, yes, that, that was good. Thanks. I feel better now."

 _How good_ is, Tony is trying not to think about how much he trusts Steve or about how much Steve obviously cares about getting him right, because if he does, he'll have to sit down and cry, instead of smiling at Steve and then going talk to Thor about his crazy brother. Which he really needs to do.

Steve smoothes Tony's hair out of his eyes and smiles. "I'm glad." He still can't quite believe how _okay_ all of this is.

Tony grabs Steve's face with both hands and leans up to kiss him. "You're so good," he says fondly. "Now let me up. I have to go ruin Thor's day, probably."

Steve laughs, although that's the wrong response. "Okay," he says, rolling off Tony and getting upright with some effort. His legs are shaking. "I'll just, uh. Go take that shower I missed out on earlier."

"Ugh," Tony says, sitting up and looking around for his pants. "Do I have time for a shower? Is this a time where I have to go ruin Thor's day without having a shower? I really hope not."

Steve smiles, grabbing his shirt from the floor. "I think you have time for a shower." Nothing feels very urgent right now, which is probably misleading.

"It would probably be more economical if we both had a shower at the same time," Tony says, quickly, so that Steve can potentially not hear him. "In the same shower."

Steve blushes and hides it by pulling his shirt over his head. "I, uh. Yeah. Yes. Sure." He gets his shirt adjusted and gives Tony a little smile. "You're giving me a real crash-course in all this stuff."

"Er. Sorry," says Tony. But he's grinning. "You're keeping up pretty well, I mean, all things considered."

Whoops. Gentle reminder that Bucky exists. But it's _okay,_ he reminds himself also. It is okay. Steve is staying.

Steve nods slowly. "I guess I am. It's been a rough few days, but I think we're all doing all right." At least he hopes Thor is all right. And he hopes Bucky is.

"I think the biggest thing we need to worry about right now is getting a handle on this Loki mess," he says. _And making sure you stay away from Nick Fury,_ he adds in his head.

"Yeah," Tony agrees. He spots his pants and hops up to put them on. "I'm gonna deal with that, you know, hopefully deal with it, as soon as I am clean again. Where is my shirt?"

"To your left, sir," JARVIS tells him.

"Ah. Thanks," Tony says, apparently unperturbed.

Steve makes a noise of alarm. He'd forgotten. "Er. Tony, how alive _is_ that thing? I mean, could it...Did it...? _Ugh."_

"Oh," says Tony. "Er. Sorry about that, too. Don't worry, he's not a gossip. Unlike everyone else in this place."

Steve shakes his head. "This is going to take some getting used to. I'm going to wind up feeling like it--he, like he's always watching."

"He doesn't _have_ to be," Tony says. "JARVIS, could you please tell the nice man from the past about your audiovisual muting functions?"

"Certainly, sir. I can render myself senseless to any degree, over any part of the building, to be revived only by manual controls that sir commands. This does not interfere with my basic security protocols with regards to parties entering or leaving at windows and doorways."

Steve isn't sure if he's less alarmed, or more. "Uh," he says, not sure where he should be directing his words. "Thanks. I appreciate it. Uh, Jarvis."

"No problem," Tony says smoothly, patting his shirt down. "Now. I am dirty. Your place or mine?"


	15. thor tries out smash but it does not help

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He doesn't even know what he's supposed to be asking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Warnings: references to alcohol abuse, past abuse and sex with horses

By the time he gets to Thor and Bruce's place, Tony has lost a lot of the nice clean calm feeling Steve was feeding him. What does _Tony_ know about confronting family problems? Or handling delicate situations? Nothing. Zero. He knows nothing about it. He's already rung the doorbell at that point, though, so there it is.

"I can answer the bell," Thor says, rousing himself from the couch. He's been stewing a little, still, but the excitement of the doorbell makes him forget that. Some mortal inventions still haven't lost their magic.

He's less excited when he opens the door to find Tony standing there. "Is there a crisis?" he asks.

"Not exactly," Tony says. "I wanted to ask you about your trip to Latveria."

Thor sighs. "Ah. Debriefing." He tries to think of a polite response, but all he feels is rising panic. "Do you want to come in?" he asks helplessly.

"That would probably be better than talking about it on the stoop," Tony says.

"Verily," Thor mutters, opening the door wider and ushering Tony in. "Bruce," he calls. "Tony is here to discuss Latveria." He waves vaguely at a chair and wonders if Tony wants tea. He doesn't ask.

"He doesn't need me, then, right?" Bruce yells back.

"Nope," Tony says. He sits down. He really wishes he had something to hang onto. He puts his hands on the table and raps his fingers instead.

Thor paces a little and begins. "I spoke with Loki. He promised to stay away, and I don't know how much of it he meant. It was indeed his doing that Bucky attacked you, though. He was playing a game."

"He admitted it was him?" Tony asks.

Thor pauses and frowns. "No. But he never would, if it was, so it matters not."

"Hmm," says Tony. "Okay. What do you mean by _game?"_

Thor clenches his fists and then turns the kettle on for tea anyway, just to have something to do. "He plays pretend," he says. "Being other people, other things. I think. I don't know that I'm the person to explain it. It's not relevant."

"It might be," Tony says. "Listen, um. Okay, this is going to be gross.” He takes a deep breath. “We have to decide as a team whether Loki is someone we're trying to take down as an enemy, or whether we're trying to stop him so we can _help_ him. We need to know our agenda. I need to know--some things."

Thor takes a step back and very carefully sets down the box of tea he's holding. 

"What kind of things?" he asks. He feels cold.

Tony forces himself not to clutch his hands together and says, as calmly as he can, "Well, first, whether you want us to try to help him or not."

Because Bruce made him decide, Thor says firmly, "I do."

"Right," Tony says. _Stop shaking._ "In that case, we need to know--what we're dealing with. Exactly what we're dealing with. Aside from your dad's secret colonial baby theft...what else is screwing with his head?"

Thor picks up the box of tea again. "I don't know," he says softly. "He was bullied somewhat, in Asgard. Made to feel like an outcast." But none of that, _none of it_ explains why this happened to Loki, and Thor knows it. He's known it since he returned home to find his brother mad.

Tony coughs. "So also," he says, "a couple people on the team are saying--is this a myth, or did Loki give birth to a horse?"

Thor frowns. "He did. I suppose that might have been alarming. Do you think it's related?" He tries to remember the look on Loki's face after he gave birth. He can't.

"I don't know," Tony says, feeling a little alarmed, himself. "Listen, I have a really crude understanding of what passes for normal in Asgard, so you'll have to correct me if I'm way off base, but is _that normal?"_

Thor turns to the whistling tea kettle, his back to Tony, and says, "I...don't think so, no. But the royal family is never normal. It was an extraordinary circumstance. The stallion was causing trouble. Destroying our fields." He feels sick.

"The--stallion," Tony repeats slowly.

"Ah," Thor says. He makes himself turn around. "Yes. How did you think it happened?"

"I had no idea," Tony says. "I still have _no idea_. How did Loki--what was Loki... _what?"_

"A mare," Thor whispers, horribly ashamed on behalf of Asgard.

"And the stallion was...causing trouble," Tony says. He thinks he sees kind of where this is going. He thinks he preferred the ruthless way myths tend to run a lot better before it turned out they were anything approaching real.

He really wishes it were someone else's job to be asking about this.

"And someone needed to distract him," Thor says. He pours two mugs of tea, his hands shaking. "And Loki became pregnant. Now do you see?"

"Who decided on _that_ plan?" Tony asks. He isn't okay with this at _all._

"I suppose it was my father," Thor says. "This was a very long time ago." That...might make it worse. He hands Tony the mug of hot water.

"Your dad told your little brother to use his magic which--let me get this straight, is a huge taboo in Asgard--to turn into a horse, so this trouble-making stallion would have _sex_ with him and then hopefully go away?"

That gets more disturbing the farther along in the sentence Tony gets. _Shit._

Thor's glass shatters on the floor. " _This is not your business!"_ he shouts.

Tony freezes. The bedroom door swings open and Bruce says, "Hey, _hey!"_

Thor blinks down at the spilled water. "I'm sorry," he says, but his voice won't even out. "I'm sorry, I'll clean it up." He's still half-shouting, though.

Bruce is at his side in a second. "I'll get it," he says. "You'll cut your fingers. Sit down and calm down."

"Sorry," Tony says. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean--I didn't even think that was true. I just mean, I just wanted to know if...I mean, we've been thinking it was one trauma, but if there's a history of, of abuse, that's a whole different," he hears the wrong word coming and only manages to make it wobbly and small, "animal." He winces. "I know this to be a true thing, okay. Sometimes when people try to treat you for PTSD and ignore your, um, whole life, you just get angrier and crazier and don't go back. Hah."

Bruce gives him a sharp look.

Thor takes a deep breath and picks up a dishtowel to mop up the water. He's breathing again, almost. "Thank you for that. I mean it. And I...I wish I could help, but Tony, I have no idea what else has happened to him. I would like to think it's nothing, but it makes no sense that he suddenly went mad."

This is too hard to think or talk about, especially while mopping up water in his normal human kitchen. But at least Tony has offered him honesty and an effort to help.

"Sit _down,"_ Bruce says, stealing his dishtowel. "You'll just get glass in it. Sit down."

"God, I'm sorry," Tony says. "I didn't mean--do you think someone else would know? I guess you couldn't exactly ask Loki. Someone else he trusted?"

Thor finally obeys Bruce (good, good Bruce, Thor is so _lucky_ ) and sits, burying his face in his hands.

"He didn't trust anyone. No one but Balder, and they don't really speak anymore since Balder got married and left Asgard."

"Yeah, definitely nothing wrong with that kid," Tony mutters.

Thor shakes his head. "This is my fault," he says weakly. "All of it's my fault. I should have _seen._ And I don't even now what there was to see."

"Well, look," Tony says. "We can probably catch him right now. I don't know if we can keep him, but we could try. We definitely can't fix him. So if fixing him is what you want, I think you...kind of have to figure out what happened."

"Oh," Thor says. He really, really doesn't want to.

But he has to.

"Sorry," Tony says, for what feels like the fiftieth time.

Bruce stands up and dumps the dustpan into the trash. "Are you really okay with trying to help someone who keeps threatening you and your team? Is the _team_ okay with it?"

"Yeah," Tony says. "We're--that's the kind of good guys we're supposed to be."

Thor manages a smile, unbelievably grateful. "Thank you. All of you. I will make an effort to aid you in any way I can, even if that means talking to half of Asgard about this."

He feels sick again. He doesn't even know what he's supposed to be asking.

"Oh, god," Bruce says. "How big is Asgard? Who do we talk to first?"

Thor rubs his temples. "My family, perhaps. Or--I suppose talking to Heimdall could prove useful. He can see everything, after all. Not that he always _does."_ Thor realizes he doesn't fully understand what Heimdall does, but he doesn't care.

"Heimdall!" Bruce says. "Good thought."

"Sounds good," Tony says. It so completely doesn't, but he's relieved just to have something like a plan in mind. "Okay. I want to have a meeting before you go off anywhere. Everyone present. I want us all on the same page, which doesn't mean spreading around every piece of bad business you find. I know all about that, too, and it's no good. I just want us to be working together. We're a team, Thor, and we're gonna do this as a team."

Thor nods, not sure _he_ knows about it. But he knows about gossip, and he doesn't like it.

"That's what I want, too," he says. This is easier to think about if his friends are helping.

"Good. A couple hours?" Tony says. "I'll call it for a couple hours. Give you time to put on your face. Trust me, too much time to put on your face and you just start drinking."

Whoops. He really, really needs to stop telling the truth as a reflex when his friends feel bad.

Thor nods agreement. "Although at the moment I wish I had some mead," he says. "I hear you can find it in Midgard." He should acquire large quantities.

"Blech," says Bruce inoffensively, as Tony says, "Oh. Mead." They look at each other approvingly.

"You can get it if you want," Bruce admits dubiously.

"It's probably not the same," Thor says, feeling very baleful. Oh well. He can get some when he talks to Heimdall. It will be the only pleasant part of the experience.


	16. thor finds balder unrecognizable

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Balder can't stand Thor's superior gaze, so full of unwarranted judgment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CHAPTER WARNINGS: confessions of rape, incest, EVERYTHING IS TERRIBLE

All through the meeting, during which Thor tries very hard not to listen to himself or anybody else, Thor is thinking about his first step. He'd said he’d go to Heimdall, to Tony and Bruce, because Heimdall knows _everything_. But Heimdall is loyal to his father, too, and Thor does not truly wish to return to Asgard until he has to. Balder, however, isn't in Asgard, not technically. And, as Thor had said, Loki had trusted Balder after he'd stopped trusting everyone else. And Balder has always been honest and kind, if a little spoiled. 

When Thor travels, it is to Nornheim.

Balder is avoiding his (or truly, Karnilla's) chambers as he often does, and is just setting out on a hunt when his attendants tell him someone has come to see him. He frowns. That rarely happens. Perhaps it's Tyr.

"Tell him I'll see him out here," he says. "I have no desire to return to my audience chamber now."

The attendants nod and two of them leave to fetch his guest; they bring Thor back with them a short time later. Thor's hair has changed length since Balder last saw him. He looks older. Haggard, too.

"Greetings, brother," Thor says. Thor feels like an alien, speaking to his youngest sibling and suddenly not knowing if he'll be as distant and unfamiliar as Loki has become. It would never have occurred to him to worry, until recently.

Balder frowns. "Thor," he says tentatively. He isn't sure how he should greet his brother. He has had little more than rumor from Asgard with regards to either Thor or Loki, and none of the news has been pretty. He will wait and see.

"What brings you here?" he asks after an uncomfortable silence.

Well. "Loki," Thor admits. He adds, "If you want to say I should have visited more often, for your sake, you're right. I've been very stupid about a lot of things."

Balder is genuinely shocked, and he hides it badly. "I never thought I'd hear you say those words, brother. Can it be that the rumors are true? That you've abandoned your brutality and arrogance in favor of something...weaker?"

Thor takes a step back. "Balder!" he says, surprised. He tries to laugh but mostly fails. He half-jokes, "I didn't think even a thousand years with Karnilla would turn _you_ into a warlord."

"Oh, so you haven't changed so much after all," Balder snaps. "Still quick to pass judgment on those you don't understand. Perhaps it's true, then, what the Norns whisper. That _you_ drove Loki mad."

Thor's startled apology dies on his lips and he goes pale. "I?" he whispers. "Is that what they say? Nay, it wasn't me. I was banished, and he was mad when I returned." Except it was his fault. He should have known, and he didn't fix it.

"Then he _is_ mad," Balder muses. "That's what they say. But they also say you both fled to Midgard, and little news reaches Nornheim from there.” He waves a hand. “What of Loki, then?" He reminds himself that he is king here, and that his eldest brother should not be able to make him feel uncomfortable.

"I--don't know," Thor says. "He is unwell. I begin to suspect it was growing in him for some time, before he discovered his parentage and...and fell."

Balder blinks at him. "You are _beginning to suspect?_ Brother, if you could not see that Loki was unwell before, you are as blind as he feared." He takes a little pleasure in the barb.

Thor's face falls farther, but he steps forward and asks hopefully, "Then I am slow, but I am not wrong. Do you know what might have set him on this path?"

Balder takes a step back. "I imagine it was many things," he says warily. "His dabbling with magic. His taunting at the hands of much of Asgard. His ill-advised trysts."

"Ah yes, that," Thor says, latching on to the last. "I--I never knew what company Loki was keeping. I was not attentive. But you were better friends with him than I, for a time. You knew the names of his 'trysts,' did you not?" If he does, Thor thinks, it would give him more courses to follow, more chances of finding out what went wrong.

Balder hesitates. "Not all, I think. He hid some things even from me, and others I only guessed at." He realizes that Thor is probably _completely unaware_ of a significant portion of Loki's history, and not only the parts that went badly.

Thor feels his heart sink. "Balder," he says, "I want to save him. I think--he has been hurt, and I do not know by whom. He hasn't trusted anyone for so long, and I did not--" He shakes his head. "It matters not where I failed. I beg you, though, tell me if you know how our brother came to ruin."

Balder flinches. So Thor knows Loki has been raped.

"I--I am uncertain," he says weakly. Loki was broken before.

Thor frowns. Balder has never been the best liar in the family. In truth, none of Odin's sons, Loki included, is very good at lies. But lies from Balder are rare and strange, and Thor is beginning to feel a sick unease at how cold and odd his littlest brother seems to have become. 

He says flatly, "I don't believe you."

Balder pales slightly. "He used to sneak around all sorts of places," he says viciously. "Made a show of himself. I wouldn't be surprised if someone got sick of it and taught him a lesson." It sounds believable, at least. (It should.)

Thor's face clouds in anger and unfocused dread. " 'Taught him a _lesson'?"_ he snaps. "Is that a jest? You think your brother’s jests deserved to be repaid so violently it drove him _mad?_ He trusted you longest, after everyone else! How _dare_ you?"

Balder falters. "I didn't mean--"

But he did.

"Loki had a lot of lessons he needed to learn," he says softly. "How would I know if he deserved whatever it is he got for it?"

Heart pounding, Thor snarls, "You're hiding something. Tell me what it is."

Balder isn't sure Thor will let him live if he tells the truth. Instead, another truth. "I know nothing that can help you," he says in a whisper, "though Loki did speak of these things sometimes when we lay together."

Thor stares at him. "When you," he says. "He never said that you..." But of course he hadn't. He hadn't trusted any of them, except for Balder himself. "Is that why he did not speak of you after you left?" _Out of heartbreak._

"It must be," Balder says quickly. "He was distressed at my marriage. We were always close." The words are weapons that cannot be turned against him. It's perfect.

"You were," Thor says slowly. He feels ill, but he pushes it aside to chase after what is bothering him in this conversation. "And you were always gentle, brother. We were surprised you survived the Norns." He catches Balder's eyes and _holds._ "So tell me, what does my gentle little brother think Loki deserved to have done to him?”

Balder can't stand Thor's superior gaze, so full of unwarranted judgment. "He deserved a lot of things for his sharp tongue," he says flatly.

"Yes, all right; he deserved to be chided and maybe listened to enough that he'd stop insulting people," Thor says angrily; he feels that his heart might beat out of his chest. "He deserved that. But that’s not what you’re saying.” He stops, and says suddenly, “What did _you_ give him, little brother?”

Balder has had enough. "A goodbye present!" he half shouts, face ugly, the old guilt bursting out with the words.

Thor recoils. "What does that mean?" he asks. He can barely get the words out. 

Balder is meant to be the _best_ of them.

"He asked for it," Balder says numbly, waiting to feel justified. "He called me weak. Mocked my ability to rule, to sire children. I just went mad."

"He asked for _what?"_ Thor says like a sob. He can nearly think of things, but they’re all so incredible and he feels so sick that he can't make the words in his head. "He never visited you after you came here. What did you do? Balder, _what did you do to him?"_

"I forced him," Balder says. "Only once. Only to show him I wasn't weak."

“Our brother. You...?” Thor whispers, disbelieving. 

“I was justified,” Balder snaps.

Thor covers his mouth and stares at Balder for a long time.

"You did not show him any strength," he says finally, his voice hoarse and thick. Loki, his quiet, sad-eyed companion. Following him, all that time, and carrying _this._ He takes a breath. Not a deep one, because he thinks he'd throw up taking it. "If you weren't king of Nornheim," he says shakily, "I would kill you, little brother. I would cut your horse from under you as you fled and you would die beneath my hammer."

Balder takes three more steps back, half certain Thor _will_ kill him.

"You should go," he says coldly, because he can say nothing else. "You should go and ask Loki if that is not what he deserved for years of corrupting me."

Thor growls and steps forward once, hammer half-raised. "Were you the only one who thought such a _punishment_ was within his rights?"

"No," Balder says quickly, "but do not ask me who else. He never said a name. Names."

Thor feels as though the ground under him is slipping. Which it may be; this land is slick with magic, and most of it is treacherous. Anyway, Balder is, at least in name, its king.

He does not nod or threaten or thank--he could not bear, he would not consider the last. He only turns around and goes back the way he came.

Balder watches Thor go for as long as he can bear it, and then turns away. His brother will return to Midgard, and anyone he tells will not be someone whose opinion Balder cares for. News of this will not reach Asgard, and if it does, it will not be believed.

Balder pulls his cloak around his shoulders and begins to prepare for his hunt again.

~

Thor makes his way numbly back to the only place he can think to go--Bruce. He is shaking still, and he feels cold, but he is not crying. He keeps trying to shy away from this new knowledge. This is his _family._

He is barely aware that he's reached his front door, but he pushes it open and goes inside to stand in the middle of the room uselessly.

"Thor?" Bruce says. He's sitting on the kitchen counter and reading a book, but he puts the book down. "You found Balder?"

Thor looks up and blinks at Bruce. "Yes," he says hollowly.

Bruce pushes aside the questions he wants to ask and says, "Need a hug?"

Thor doesn't know. He rarely feels like he doesn't want to be touched, but--"No, thank you," he says, formal and stilted. "Not at the moment. I just--nothing is all right."

Bruce bites his lip and waits awhile before he says, "There was something."

"Worse," Thor says thickly. "Worse than I expected. I thought perhaps--I know not. I couldn't imagine. But not this. Nothing like this." He grabs Bruce's hand, suddenly needing touch after all.

Bruce rests his free hand on the back of Thor's neck. "Sweetheart," he says. He wonders if at some point he should get off this counter, or if it helps that he's still Bruce, but is a little taller, too.

"Balder," Thor whispers. "Balder raped him." He feels dizzy and sick, but he needs to say the words.

"What?" Bruce says sharply.

"Before Balder left Asgard," Thor says slowly. "Loki said something to upset him, and he--" He covers his mouth and realizes he will either be sick or cry.

Bruce feels a slow, cold fury unfurling in his gut. He's angry at the sick look on Thor's face, and he's angry because it's Thor's brother, but he'd be angry anyway. Loki's wild, vicious face is in his memory, and the way he wanted Bruce to _hurt._ To be hurt, but to lash out as well. He’d called Bruce a god’s whore.

Bruce is cautious about psychoanalyzing near-strangers, but he puts together the only things he knows about Loki's life and thinks, _of course._

"Balder the Brave indeed," he says bitterly. He wonders if it would be so bad to let Hulk out just now.

"We all believed what was said of him," Thor says, crying. "I don't know when it stopped being true. And he said...I don't know if it's true, but he said he and Loki were...together. Before. It doesn't matter now. I just...I knew so little of my family." He clings to Bruce's hand, so desperately thankful to be _here_ and not in Asgard.

Bruce pulls him closer, until he's breathing against Thor's ear. "It's not your fault," he says. "No; trust me. It isn't. Families hide what they want to hide. Even from each other."

"I should have seen," Thor whispers. "Balder says he wasn't the only one. That happened to Loki _over and over_ and I didn't see it."

It takes a minute for Bruce to swallow back his horror and keep himself in charge. "Do you know...who else?" he asks.

Thor shakes his head. "Balder says Loki never told him. I believe that. I...I want to find out. I need to know. Is that wrong?" He wonders how many of them will be people he is not allowed to slay.

"No," Bruce says, voice steely. "Not wrong. You should know who has to be kept away from him. You should know who needs to be hurt. If you can figure out how not to start a war, you should go back to Nornheim make Balder pay."

Thor cries harder, unable to say anything else. He doesn't think he would be able to do this without Bruce. He still isn't sure how he's going to do it, or what he's going to do.

He clings to Bruce until he can breathe again.


	17. victor von doom and his doombots in new york

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Don't be hasty, Asgardian," Doom says.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Warnings: references to past rape (like, in every chapter forever)

Loki seems well enough after his brother's interruption, but Doom is growing uneasy about this whole Avengers business. They shouldn't be coming here and upsetting Loki. They shouldn't be coming here at all.

Doom has an embassy in New York, and no reason to tell Loki where he's going. He just says, "Out on business. Don't blow anything up while I'm gone." Loki sneers at him, and Doom leaves. He goes to New York, settles himself at his embassy, and sends a Doombot to meet Thor while he's alone at home in Queens.

Thor has been unable to rest easy since seeing Balder. He hasn't told the rest of the team what he's learned yet, although it's part of the answer they're looking for. It feels suddenly more private.

He's currently sitting in the kitchen drinking some of Bruce's chamomile and trying not to think about his next step.

Doom, by proxy, arrives at Thor's door, and then realizes he hasn't planned this part out. Does he knock? Does he knock the door down? Does he shout from outside? 

He remembers Thor bursting into the room while he and Loki were in the middle of having sex. The Doombot slams the door open. There is some satisfactory splintering where the lock was.

"Thor!" the Doombot cries. "We must have words!"

Thor jumps to his feet and strides to the doorway, his nerves already frayed enough that he's there almost before he registers who it is.

"Doom?" he asks, surprised. "What are you doing here?" Something is amiss. _Loki,_ something in the back of his head murmurs.

"Thor," the Doombot says. "I thought it best to greet you in a manner you would find...customary." It crosses its arms. This is safer, but Doom would really like to punch Thor in person.

Thor tries to speak and for a second, he cannot. Too many thoughts clamor for attention, and the one that wins is, _What exactly did I interrupt?_ He pushes it away.

"What are you doing here?" he asks instead.

"I have exactly the purpose you claimed to have," the Doombot says scornfully. It's not quite scornful enough. Doom needs to work on that. "I've come to ensure that your precious team's uninvited forays into my country--not to mention my _house_ \--are over, and that you will cease trying to contact Loki, who obviously doesn't want anything to do with you."

Thor takes a breath and can't let it out correctly. "Oh," he manages. "Oh, you, too."

He slams Doom up against the wall--with only a little effort--and snarls, "If you _ever_ touch my little brother again, I will turn you into _dust."_

The Doombot takes some damage--its left arm stops responding altogether, which means this will become embarrassingly obvious if it doesn't end quickly. Doom registers this, and then thinks, _What?_

"What?" the Doombot says. It's better at incredulous, oddly enough. "Why shouldn't I touch Loki? What business is it of yours?"

"He," Thor says, still not breathing right, "is my _brother._ And you're a monster."

He thinks better of his promise to hurt Doom _next time._ Not only is he hurting Loki, he's trying to _lock Loki away._

Thor slams Doom into the wall much, much harder.

The Doombot's head comes off, which is definitely a design flaw.

"Damn," says Doom. "Wait. _What?"_

Thor stares at the thing, uncomprehending for a moment. When he realizes what this is, he's even _angrier._

The Latverian Embassy isn't far, especially flying. He's there before he can sort out what to say.

Doom is not surprised to see Thor turn up on his video cameras, although it takes less time than he would have liked. He's still not sure why Thor suddenly thinks that he's a monster, when at last encounter, Thor appeared flustered, apologetic, only generally angry, and not bright enough for specifics. Doom watches him head towards the entrance and wonders whether it makes any difference if the door is locked or not.

Thor barely slows down. He hits the door with Mjolnir and it gives immediately. Thor really hopes Doom is here, because if he has to fly all the way to Latveria, he'll be exhausted as well as furious. He doesn't think the journey would cool his fury, though.

He continues through the building, knocking holes in three walls on the way, until he finds the real Doom.

"What the _hell_ do you think you're doing?" Doom says angrily.

Thor grabs Doom by the front of his tunic and shakes him. "What did you do to my brother, you _beast?"_

"DO to him?" Doom shouts. "I took him to bed and later we had dinner. As _usual._ In our _home."_ He snarls the last word for emphasis, and shoves (somewhat ineffectually) at Thor's chest.

"Took him to bed," Thor spits. "What did I walk in on? Who was his distress directed at? You were just doing what the others have done. Well, no more."

"His _distress?_ He was in no distress until you burst in unannounced!" Doom reconsiders all of Thor's words, and says furiously, "You aren't daring to suggest that I would have him against his will?"

"You wouldn't be the first," Thor snarls, in furious tears again without realizing it. "Our own _brother_ has--" He voice breaks and he stops.

"What?" Doom whispers. He knew. He knew it had happened, he knew it had happened more than once, by more than one culprit. Loki had said as much, on several occasions. He hadn't known this.

" _Asgardians,"_ he hisses. "You truly are the gods of humanity, aren't you? You are as despicable as the mortals who worship you."

"And what does that make you?" Thor demands. "I know what kind of man you are. I trust my friends when they tell me what destruction you've wrought. Why wouldn't you turn to rape?"

"I would not," Doom says, his voice steely. He suspects that Thor could very easily kill him, but he's too angry for caution. "Even if I would consider such an act against anyone, I could not harm Loki." _People like you,_ he seethes, _have done enough._

Thor lets go of Doom, deflating a little.

"Why?" he asks.

"Because," Doom snaps, "he matters to me, and I have seen him too many times on the edge of breaking irreparably because of what your precious family have done to him."

Thor takes a step back. "I," he says. "I see."

This is better than what Thor thought five minutes ago, but it hurts. Loki really has found someone who will care for him better than his own family.

"I'm sorry," Thor says wearily. "I was wrong."

"Unsurprising," Doom sneers, "considering what I can gather of your intelligence."

Thor meets his eyes, angry again. "Don't," he says. "I have had a long, upsetting series of conversations I do not ever wish to repeat, and I must have more still. We are on the same side."

"Perhaps if you did not keep breaking down my doors, threatening to kill me, and _making him cry,"_ Oh, he feels bad about the last part, but Loki doesn't need to know he said it, and Doom wishes very much for Thor to feel every inch of guilt he deserves. "...perhaps then I might find it in myself to agree."

Thor swallows and wipes his eyes. "All I do is hurt him. I never mean to. But now I see how badly he's been hurt by others, perhaps I can help by destroying them."

He knows it's a bad, stupid plan. He doesn't care.

"Don't be hasty, Asgardian," Doom says. "You want vengeance because of what _you_ know. He's known all along who's hurt him, and he hasn't struck them down, has he? Perhaps you should consider his reasons before you go meting out some heavy-handed justice."

"I don't know how to get it right," Thor says helplessly. "How is it that a mortal madman knows what he needs better than I? I do _try._ I love him dearly." He is too tired to be speaking with his enemies.

"But you never shut up!" Doom shouts, and then sighs. "I'm not giving you advice on your sibling. You shouldn't need it and I don't like you. But maybe if you'd stop showing up uninvited and shouting about your intentions and just damn well listened to her for once without drawing a hundred idiotic conclusions, you would be a little less frustrated, and I would have fewer messes to clean up after you."

Thor realizes Doom is saying much of what Bruce said to him. And what Loki has said, or tried to say.

He simply nods. Next time, he will.

Doom waits to see if this unwilling dispensing of basic wisdom will make Thor go away, but it doesn't.

"This changes nothing with regards to my original purpose," he says crankily. "You and the Avengers or any of your Asgardian friends are not welcome in Latveria. If you have some pressing need to cross my borders you will have to ask, like anyone else." Ask and be denied. Or dissected.

"All right," Thor mutters. He feels bad enough for his false accusations that he'll allow Doom's arrogance. Besides, it's probably warranted. "But if I want to see Loki, you _will_ allow it."

"It's not my choice," Doom snaps. "For a man so prepared to kill his brother's rapists, you're certainly clear on your own right to _access_ him."

Thor grabs Doom by the throat and slams him up against the wall. "Take that back!" he shouts.

Doom winces, and it's not to say he's not frightened, but he's so angry that anger is all there's room for. "You may be no rapist," he hisses, "but you're just the same--an entitled, self-righteous bully. You see Loki as something to be managed. Something with no consent to give. You demand to see him, and you expect _me_ to tell you whether you may? You might want to save him, all of a sudden, but you certainly don't respect him."

Thor drops Doom. "In all of Asgard," he says softly, "I was the only one who never thought whether or not Loki was someone to be respected. He was my brother, so I respected him. He was also my best friend. Do not presume to know me. I will not discuss my brother further with you."

"Your _sibling,"_ Doom says pointedly, "may be mad, but I'll take Loki's word over yours. Loki doesn't believe that, and until you act otherwise, neither do I. Until Loki says otherwise, moreover, it doesn't matter what you feel. Get out of my embassy."

Thor is more than happy to comply, but he cannot allow that to stand. "You think you know him," he says, "but you're wrong. You're so young. If he wants, he'll use you like a toy. I almost hope he does, although he seems to care for you too much for that."

Doom opens his mouth to say _I don't care_ or possibly _Then we'll use each other,_ but before he can, Loki's voice cuts him off, brittle and sweet.

"Thor," Loki says. "I know my character flaws are periodically the choicest topic of gossip in all of Asgard, but we aren't there. Stop menacing my mortal."

Thor blinks. He'll never get used to this trick of Loki's. "Brother," he says softly. He's certain he looks as though he's been crying. "I believe my business with... _your_ mortal is finished."

He can't even look at Loki.

"Good," Loki says smartly, but then he moves in place like a worried horse. "What's this revolting look you're dragging over my toes, Thor? It cannot be you're ashamed." His voice isn't sweet anymore. It's deep, with jagged edges.

Thor looks up and meets Loki's eyes, and he flushes with rage at the memory of Balder's words. "No," he says. "Not ashamed." He also remembers what Bruce and Doom said, and he simply waits to see what Loki will say. _Listen._

Loki trips over that, somewhat. He doesn't know what Thor is angry at, but he's uncomfortably certain that it isn’t him.

"You're wrong about Victor," he says, throwing a spear without seeing the target. "The only wrong he's done you is being better company on a bad day. And _he_ lets me fuck him if I ask."

Victor is glad not to be as visibly embarrassed as he feels.

Thor's mouth fills with angry responses, but he retreats again. "My apologies if I have been bad company. I do not always know the cause of your bad days."

Loki stares at him. "What are you _doing?_ " he asks. "Were you not a minute ago telling my lover that I was using him like a toy? Now you are the diplomat." He spills disdain into the last.

Victor thinks that if Loki realizes it's pity, for what Thor now knows their brother has done, Loki will kill Thor. 

He doesn't entirely mind the idea.

"I can be diplomatic with you and not with him," Thor says with a flash of honest annoyance. "But I will gladly leave the two of you in peace if you would prefer."

"All I want is peace," Loki snaps, which he doesn't mean to do, and it makes him take a step back in fear.

"You should go," Victor starts, annoyed that he is once again the feeble audience of two gods matching their wills.

"Then I will leave you, for now, with someone who clearly brings you peace," Thor says wearily, ignoring Doom. "I do not begrudge you that."

"What are you _doing?"_ Loki says, and repeats himself, practically begging. "What are you doing? Why aren't you pushing, suddenly? Perhaps it's just the end of your will?"

"He feels guilty," Victor says sharply. Perhaps this is a terrible idea, but he can see that Loki won't let Thor go as he clearly wishes to.

Thor shoots a venomous look at Doom. "I've pushed for too long," he says. "Both your mortal and mine suggested I might fare better at becoming your friend once more if I stopped."

"If you stay out of other people's business, you mean," Doom says snidely. It's a threat.

Loki says, with a flash of a disingenuous smile, "My friend!" but he trails off, thrown, because of course Thor means it. He always means everything he says, in the moment he says it. "The sight of any Asgardian makes me sick," he says unevenly.

Thor looks at him, pale with sudden shock. It could well be true. Perhaps it _should_ be true. "Oh," he says unsteadily. "Oh, I should go."

"Fine," Loki says. "Good. Go."

"I _told_ you to get out ten minutes ago," Victor mutters.

Thor nods unhappily and turns away, not knowing what else he can say. If Asgard has ruined Loki, and Loki has been ruined for Asgard, perhaps Thor stands no chance of being able to regain his friendship.

"My, you _are_ obedient now," Loki says. "Goodbye, Thor. Don't hurry back. If you touch Victor again I'll see you dead."

Thor wonders miserably if Doom is truly the first person who has _not_ hurt Loki in some way. "As you wish," he mutters, and he lets himself out.

Victor has the same information Thor does. He keeps it in mind, and then files it away. It makes no real difference. He already knew Loki hated Asgard and that his madness and touch-aversion were brought on, at least in part, by maltreatment. But Loki is still this beautiful creature, alive and wild and belonging to Victor if it belongs to anyone in any measure.

"You are in an excellent mood today," Victor says.

"I am," Loki agrees, smiling catlike, but it melts into the sweet true way Victor has only seen a handful of times. "Thank you for trying. I am very happy he didn't kill you."

"He wouldn't have killed me," Victor grumbles, but they both know that's a lie.

"Let's go upstairs," Loki suggests, which is what they do.


	18. tony stark knows something about this

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony's one and only therapist had tried to apply that word to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CHAPTER WARNINGS: past rape, rape culture, PTSD, references to sex with animals, nobody in the nine realms treats their mental health issues

Thor wastes little time in going to find Tony. He thinks perhaps the team as a whole should know what's going on, but he can't bring himself to make Loki's business public knowledge. He thinks Tony will understand. If he's wrong, he's not opposed to throwing Tony against a wall, too.

He knocks on Tony's door, hammer still in hand.

Inside the apartment, JARVIS says, "Thor for you, Sir." Tony puts down his phone and tries to push stock values out of his head.

"Yup!" he calls. "Come in!"

Thor does so, trying to arrange himself so he looks less distressed. "I spoke with Balder," he says. He decides not to mention smashing the front door of the Latverian embassy yet.

"You did, okay!" says Tony, and then looks at Thor properly and says, "Er. Not good?"

"Worse than I feared." Thor thinks it gets harder to say every time. "I thought Balder would tell me of wounds Loki had suffered at the hands of _others._ I was wrong."

"Oh," says Tony. "Hey, you should--do you want to sit?" Tony is still just standing up next to the couch. He doesn't feel like he should still have to be explaining to people about sitting.

Thor nods. Following careful instructions is about the most he feels able to do at the moment. He sits down on the couch and buries his face in his hands. He's not going to cry again, he thinks, but he can't bear to look at Tony.

"I don't know what to do," he mutters. "Our _brother._ I didn't think..."

"Are there," Tony says. It's got to be bad news, or Thor wouldn't be looking like this. Exactly how far out of Tony's depth is this Loki project going to turn out to be? "Do you want to tell me any details?" he asks finally.

Thor realizes that he does. He would almost rather talk to Tony about this than Bruce, although without Bruce, he'd still be a sobbing mess, he's sure.

"Balder wasn't the only one," Thor says softly. "But he doesn't know who the others were. And he and Loki were...they were involved. Before. But before Balder left to be married, Loki mocked him and _this_ happened. As far as I know, they haven't spoken since."

"Wait," Tony says. He feels a little sick, but Thor skirting the issue means Tony needs to ask up front. "What exactly are you talking about? What did Balder do?"

Thor can't say the word again. He has to say the word again.

"He raped him," he says thickly.

_Oh._

Tony's one and only therapist had tried to apply that word to him. That was the end of the therapist. Tony hasn't used that word, or any psychiatric professional, since. It's not relevant. They're not relevant.

 _They were involved,_ his mind clamors, _we're family, teach you a lesson._

"Oh, god," Tony says, forcing himself to sound normal. He's not allowed to panic yet, because this isn't his deal. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry I wasn't wrong. I--that's really horrible."

Thor nods, immensely grateful. Tony and Bruce are the _best people_ and he has them on this side. On Loki's side, if need be.

"I asked Bruce, and I need to ask you, too," he says quietly. "Should I pursue this to its end? Find out who else has _dared--?_ Or should I stop before I hear more things I would rather not?"

Tony has to grit his teeth to keep from making some noise. He can imagine having some well-meaning friend (Rhody, for example) digging through his past to make sure he knows all the worst parts of it. He has to stop imagining because it makes him want to scream.

"I don't know," he says. "I'm sorry, I really don't. You could really hurt him, digging it up."

Thor nods. "That's what I'm afraid of. But if there are any of them I can kill, I--But that won't help him at all." He shakes his head. "That's the trouble, nothing will. I don't know how I _missed_ this, Tony."

Tony coughs. "You know, I don't know how it is in your hypermasculine warrior culture," he says. "But around here being sexually assaulted means you're weak, a slut, a fag, or a liar. You know," he laughs, which he really shouldn't do, "lots of things that really make people want to accuse their r-- their abusive family members."

"It's not different in Asgard," Thor admits miserably. "Worse, perhaps, as rape is often something to be laughed at." He tries to swallow, but his throat is dry, and he's too ashamed to meet Tony's eyes.

"Well then of course you didn't know," Tony says quickly. "He was scared. He wanted it hidden. He--Thor," Tony says tentatively, "aside from the horse, does Loki have any more children?"

"Yes," Thor says cautiously, not wanting to think about what that might mean. "He gave birth to a wolf once. It grew huge and vicious and tore off my brother Tyr's hand."

Tony is startled. "Oh," he says. "Okay. That's...not cute. But do you know--did he say whose it was, ever?"

Thor frowns, thinking back. "No," he says. "He refused. All I know is he was trapped in his female form until it was born, and he was...distressed. But that hardly seemed surprising."

"Huh," Tony says. He doesn't know what advice to offer. He wonders if Loki has ever had sex for fun, or if he just gets fucked with by gods and...horses. And wolves. Doctor Doom is looking like a better choice all the time.

"Do you think he's safer, with Doom?" he asks.

"Yes," Thor says. "I--I thought perhaps Doom was the same as the rest of them, but I was wrong. Loki is happy there. I can't interfere with that, certainly not after this."

Tony runs his hand through his hair. "I don't know what to suggest," he admits. "I--you could make it a lot worse. Especially if he's doing okay right now. At the same time, you know, if he and Doom get up to villainy kinds of behavior, we do kind of have to stop them."

"I know," Thor says. "I won't stop you. I'll help. Nothing is an excuse for hurting innocent people. This just makes it so much harder. I wish I knew--" He tries not to think about wolves.

Tony shrugs awkwardly. "Well, you could find out," he says. "If you really need to." His hands would be shaking if they weren't casually laced together so hard.

"Yes," Thor says. He stands. "Thank you for your time and advice, my friend. I think I need to go home to Bruce and rest before I do anything else. My head isn't clear."

"Hey!" Tony says. "I mean. I'm not going to bring any of this to the rest of the team right now, okay? We won't." He should be saying, unless they have to, until Thor is ready, until they've talked it through, but he has to pretend there's no chance of it spreading. He has to pretend you can shut it up and walk away.

"Thank you," Thor says, and he claps a hand on Tony's shoulder. "I owe all of you a lot of helping me so much."

He feels stilted, tired, and still unreal, so he leaves before he can break down again.

~

Steve expects Tony at his place for dinner--he barely uses the apartment at this point, but the kitchen is still better organized, and he likes his shabby kitchen table (apparently old-fashioned). But he doesn't expect Tony to be late. When Tony does show up, he looks not quite in the pink, as Peggy would say.

Tony has been trying to make his hands stop shaking ever since he talked to Thor, and it hasn't worked yet. But he couldn’t exactly _not_ go to Steve's. That would look weirder.

He'd say he's not sure what's wrong, but of course he is. He just doesn't like a single one of the words that applies, and he won't say any of them to Steve.

"Hi!" he says instead, brightly and too loudly.

"You're in a good mood," Steve says, which is a lie, but he wants to see if Tony will stop telling it once Steve starts. He keeps his hands busy; dinner is almost ready and Tony looks like Steve needs to come at the problem sideways.

"Yup," Tony says, "been working on the Loki problem. Making some headway, but nothing solid yet. Sorry I'm late, got caught up in work." Everything he says comes out about three times too fast and in the wrong rhythm.

"Clearly," Steve says. "I can barely hear you at the rate you're caught up." He keeps the word _headway_ on hand.

Tony laughs desperately, because oh God, Steve isn't stupid. Not that it would take a genius to see that Tony isn't okay right now. 

"Sorry," he says again, like it's a joke. "Just when you thought you'd calmed me down, huh?"

Steve puts down his skillet and parks himself in front of Tony and crosses his arms and says, "Hey. What kind of headway?"

Tony shies away, taking a few steps back before he realizes he's doing it. 

"Actually," he says, "I can't say. I promised Thor. But it--uh, I guess it stirred some things up."

 _PTSD,_ he remembers. _Triggers._ He doesn't want any of that to be him. Not about this, not about any of the things they tried to tell him would set him off.

"Some things like _you?"_ Steve asks. This is a more on-edge Tony than usual. "Hey, now. I've got you. No need to smile that hard at me if you don't mean it."

Tony laughs and is afraid for a second he won't be able to stop, but instead the laugh just ends abruptly in a little gasp. 

"Kind of prefer it to the alternative," he says. He doesn't even know what that would be right now. Crying? Curling up in a ball and letting himself actually think about--

He tries to think the name and he feels so sick he has to grab Steve for support. This has gotten...worse.

"Tony!" Steve says. He catches one hand under Tony's elbow and the other around his waist. "Hey, pal, hey, are you okay?" Tony is shaking under his touch.

All Tony wants is to be _away_ from here so he can contain this, lock it away and forget it again, forget that those words could ever be applied to it. But Steve isn't going to let him.

"It's nothing," he babbles, "just, uh, just thinking about some bad sex this one time."

 _Some bad sex_ and _this one time_ are both wildly off the mark, but Tony has only ever told one person this, and he fired her when she tried to fix it.

" _Nothing,"_ Steve repeats softly, squeezing his hands into fists for a second. "Tony. Hey. Hey." He forces his hands flat and smoothes one across Tony's back. "You're shaking," he says. "It's not nothing."

"But it was," Tony says quickly. "I mean, I, ha, I never said--I didn't say no, well, maybe one time, but that was later, and he hardly ever even used, oh, God, Steve, please--" He's shaking so hard, and he feels so sick. This isn't supposed to happen.

"You didn't say no to _who?"_ Steve asks, and he's surprised to hear his voice is hard as steel.

"Obie," Tony whispers, and he has to keep going, cover the name with other words, or he really will be sick. "I mean, it's not a big deal, right, I was fine with it, I really _liked_ him, he was so likable, and he saw me how I was when nobody else did, so how could I possibly mind getting fingered every once in a while?"

" _WHAT?"_ Steve shouts. He can't help it, he doesn't mean to shout, he can tell even as he does that he's going to scare the hell out of Tony by doing it. But this is--what has just been sitting here between them without anyone knowing, without Tony even believing it's wrong?

"Shit," Tony says frantically, "No no no, but it's okay, I didn't _mind._ I mean, we had a thing. You know. And it was for my own good." He winces when he hears the words come out of his mouth. Like that'll convince anyone.

"You're joking," Steve says flatly. "You're kidding me. You're--" He's seen pictures of the older Obadiah Stane, and it's making it difficult to keep the images out of his mind. "He's dead, Tony. If it was fine, why are you frightened? He's not even here."

"Ha ha," Tony says. "Well. He did try to kill me. Later. So that's. A reason. I mean, not a really _good_ reason, but...Look, I never said no. He didn't--It wasn't like _that._ I mean, I wasn't always crazy about some of it, but you know, he was doing his best." _What are you DOING?_ his mind screams at him.

Steve is choking up. He can feel himself failing to get the right stuff together. There's no right place to--

He has the sudden sick thought that he can't imagine Tony ever saying no.

 _What if you...?_ he starts to think, but there's no space for that.

"Did you have a choice?" he asks. He sounds like he's about to cry. He doesn't have the right to be the one about to cry. "That's not the same as saying no. Did he give you a choice?"

"Uh," Tony says. He hates being asked questions. Especially when he's not sure about the answer. "I mean, I was seventeen the first time. Do you ever have a choice when you're seventeen and your dad's partner who's basically _family_ is just trying to cheer you up? But I think I could have said no when I was twenty-five. Or thirty-five. Or any of the other times."

Steve's face goes red in an instant. "That son of a bitch," he says. "He raped you. You were a kid. You didn't even know who you--he took advantage because you were..." Oh, he can see half a dozen ways _Obie_ took advantage. He wishes the man weren't dead after all. He wants to kill him.

Tony freezes up. "Don't say that word," he says. He sounds terrified. "Rape, it wasn't rape, it wasn't..." He remembers saying, _Hey, not super comfortable being touched there, so if you could..._ He remembers Obie saying, _Whoops, forgot. Sorry, Tony._ He suddenly can't stop remembering.

"He _hurt you,"_ Steve barks. "For your own good? People don't say that, Tony, not unless they're talking about _their_ good."

And Tony figured all that out, too, when Obie tried to kill him. He looked back on everything that happened and said, _Wait._ Except this. Somehow this is still on Tony.

"He never fucked up my name," Tony whispers. It isn't what he means to say.

"Yeah," Steve says savagely. "He just used it to fuck _you."_

Tony can't catch his breath. "I, I don't..." He wants to scream at Steve, wants to _leave,_ but he's supposed to be fixing his life now. He can't keep making the same mistakes.

He takes a second to slow his breathing down and waits to figure out what to say.

Steve swallows. "You look scared to death," he says quietly. "You think you need to apologize for anybody who scares you to death?"

"No," Tony says unsteadily. "No, I don't. I...Look, you must know how tough it is to say..." He clears his throat and starts again even more miserably, knowing what a _stupid fucking thing_ it is to say. "I mean, men don't get raped. Not _real men."_

Steve has to piece that together over a few seconds. "Jesus Christ, Tony," he says thickly. He wants to kill that man.

Tony runs a hand through his hair. "Well, there it is. The thing I don't tell people because then they try to make it a thing. And now I look stupid and weak and naive and--" He stops abruptly. "Sorry. Sorry."

"You look," Steve says, "like someone with all the power treated you like shit."

Somehow, in all these years, Tony's never thought of it that way. That...sounds okay. "Yeah?" he says. "I, uh, think I can live with that."

Steve says, "You shouldn't have to live with it at all." He thinks about his hands on Tony's body and feels ill, imagining Obie's in their place. He pauses for a long time. "I don't want any power over you," he says.

Tony lets out a breath. "Sorry," he says. "Too late for that. And saying I trust you won't exactly help, huh? Because I trusted him more than anything. But I'd like to think I've learned a lesson. You're a good person, Steve. This time I'm giving it to someone who's worth it." He wants to add, _And I'm not giving you everything,_ but he's not sure that's true, and he doesn't want to lie.

Steve hesitates. "I'm not saying you can't trust me. Or love me," he says. "But you can say no, I need you to know you can say no. I need to you to know it's not--listen, I say 'making love' and I mean it, and if it's ever anything but that, I don't want it. And I'm not a genius. So you've gotta tell me. If I hurt you it would kill me."

"Oh, God," Tony says. "I promise, okay? I promise. I wouldn't do that to you. To, uh, to us. This is something different than--Well, than any of the other things I've had, really, and I'm not going to mess that up. No one has ever been so good to me, you know that, right?" He takes Steve's hand to prove the point, and to show Steve that he's stopped shaking.

Steve grabs him into a hug, fingers tight in his hair. "I love you, Tony Stark," he mumbles fiercely into his hair. "And you're strong, and smart, and you deserve every good damn thing. And I won't mess up your name either, because I don't remember the other one." He kisses Tony's temple. "And I know who you are, buddy. You're Tony. I’m slow, but I’ve got it now."

Tony holds on. He's so busy holding on and letting himself cry that he almost forgets to say it.

"I love you, too," he says finally, pulling back enough that he knows Steve will hear it.

As soon as he does hear it, Steve pulls him back in. Not letting go of this one.


	19. bucky barnes goes back and forth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Hit me," he says.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Warnings: crazy Bucky, brainwashing

Bucky okays Hank Pym fiddling with his head on one condition: no Steve.

"Not while we do this," he says. "Not till I'm cleaned up."

"It's probably going to hurt," Hank warns him.

"Yeah," Bucky says. "That's why."

Natasha, though. She’s seen everything already. He’s seen her too. She can stay.

~

After about a hundred psych tests and heart monitors and brain scans and unpleasant conversations about Bucky’s missions and his past, Hank feels ready to do something about fixing him up.

“I can rebuild you!” he says. “Synapse at a time. We’ll just pluck those triggers right out of your head. Won’t mess up your memory or anything!” 

Today they’ll calibrate the machine. Natasha will set him off, Bucky will try to get back on track, and Hank will follow the course of his thoughts (literally! Science is amazing), and that should be enough information that he can disable Bucky’s triggers with no problems. 

He’s told Natasha and Bucky not to worry about the details. Science is not their strong suit.

He puts an airborne tranquilizer into the filtration system in Bucky's cell, just enough to chill him out and slow his reflexes. Then he vents it out, and he and Natasha tie Bucky down in a chair.

Bucky tries to breathe past the drug-hazed panic at letting them. They've got better cuffs this time; Stark (Tony) got them something Bucky's arm won't just rip through at the first tug.

"What's up first, doc?" he asks foggily.

"First I'm going to hook you up to a computer," Hank says, doing this (no point in wasting time!). "And then Natasha is going to ask you some questions and say some words, which may trigger you; and you're going to respond. If you sense that you’re being triggered, try to fight it. You don't have to speak; I'm reading your brain."

"Right. Great," says Bucky.

Natasha can tell Bucky is more of a mess than he's pretending to be, both because she knows him and because she knows people. She only hopes most of that is the natural response to being tied up and drugged, rather than some piece of programming he's going to lose the fight against. She hopes he’s in good enough condition to be fixed up—assuming Hank’s improbably simple-sounding solution works at all.

"Don't be afraid," she says, more instruction than reassurance.

"Last time you said that to me it was a lot sexier," Bucky tells her.

"I'm going out now," Hank says. " Just remember to stay focused. The longer you wisecrack the longer it's going to take to get you out of here, kiddo." He whisks out of the chamber, sealing it behind him. Bucky glares half-heartedly. Pym may be right, but he's damned annoying. Pym waves for them to start a moment later.

Natasha is very glad Jan isn't here. Or any of the others, for that matter. 

"How do you feel, James?" she asks, testing the waters. She has to start somewhere.

"Messed up," Bucky says. "Obviously. And drugged. And a little fucking petrified, but that's nothing to worry about. I'm in charge. You've got your baseline. Hit me."

Natasha nods. Time for business, then. "Tell me about Russia," she says. "The Winter Soldier. Your missions. Your weapons. Start somewhere." She watches him, her eyes narrowed, for anything to change.

"That's a pretty big starting place," Bucky says through gritted teeth. His vision goes hazy through a barrage of old memories, old and bloodstained and smelling of metal. "Wanna be more specific?"

She doesn't want to. "Your imprisonment," she says, her voice steely. "Tell me who, if you know. If not, tell me how. Where did you first wake up?"

Bucky gasps. It shouldn’t be this easy to--memory is all he can see; he feels like he's wading through it. "Dark, low ceilings, no exits," he says quickly. "Couldn't move. My arm was--" He gags. The first time he woke up, he wasn't whole yet. "Blood everywhere," he whispers. "Tied down. Called me soldier. Ignored my name."

"James," Natasha says. He needs to hear it; he needs help finding his way back. " _James_."

"Got it! Get him back, Natasha," Hank says over the intercom. "Come on, kiddo, try-- _now."_

Bucky shouts, surges forward against his restraints. He sags back a second later breathing hard and looking beady-eyed at Natasha. "So that's just one way to set me off, huh?" he asks, gasping. "How many do you think I've got in there?"

"No matter how many there are," Natasha says, forcing her voice steady, "We will find them. We will get them out. Understood, soldier?"

"Got it," Bucky answers. He shuts his eyes for a second, but opens them again before he speaks. "Hit me," he says.

Natasha takes a beat. "Your first mission," she says.

"Infiltrate allied troops in Berlin," he mutters. "Assassinate American soldiers on their way back to base. I did it, too, Nat, I--oh, God, I _did that_. It was so easy."

"I understand," Natasha says. Bucky isn't getting lost in it this time. It’s a relief, but it’s not helpful. "Do you know how many?" This is cruel, she thinks. It's cruel to both of them.

"Three," says Bucky. "Of course I remember. I mean, I--think. Does it matter anymore? They weren't the only ones."

"Natasha," says Hank. "I think I need to you to play a little more like you're one of them. Okay?"

Natasha is hit by the sharp realization that Hank has no idea how hard this is for her. He doesn't know even a fraction of what she's done. No need for that to matter, though.

"Then tell me about the others," she says, drawing herself up to her full height and letting her voice go cold. "I need you coherent for debriefing, soldier." Her accent creeps in stronger and stronger as she speaks.

Bucky's expression freezes, too visibly, and when he speaks next his whole body is tense, and his voice is hard, "Yes, sir. Of course, sir."

Natasha shudders. "Well done. Now tell me what your mission was." Just enough to locate the specific trigger, and then she'll pull him out. If she can.

Natasha shudders. "Well done." Now she just needs to locate the specific trigger, and then she'll pull him out. If she can. "Now, we need you to keep yourself in line unless you want to go back to containment. You do not wish to be put to sleep, do you?" Those are several words that might be useful.

"Touching on something," Hank mutters over the loudspeaker. "Keep on that course for a sec." 

Bucky says, "No, sir, but I'm going back anyway, aren't I?" He's not supposed to talk back, except lately he hasn't gotten in trouble for-- _oh._

"You wouldn't put me away, Natasha," he says, with difficulty and a violent smile. "Hope Pym caught that."

"I did," Hank calls. "Well done."

"Swell," Bucky sighs. "Okay. Hit me."

Natasha swallows and pushes down her worry. This one might be painful. "This matter of conversing with other agents," she says. "This must stop. You will have no more contact with the Widow. With Natalia." With any of a dozen other code-names she's used.

"Not enough," Bucky says. There's an angry edge to it that's not anger at her. He's angry at her voice saying those words. It's too easy to remember how cruel they were to both James and Natalia. She shouldn't have to be doing this. "Still here," is all he says.

Natasha nods shortly, curses in her head, and leans in to kiss him quickly on the mouth.

He's so startled and confused that for a second he's swapping back and forth between lies, ID'ing Natasha as about five different people, and has the fleeting thought that if Pym can follow all this he's pretty fucking amazing. 

"'Talia," he gets out, and then he sees her like he used to, and only like that. "They're watching," he whispers. "They’ll--kill you? Or me." Mostly her.

Natasha grits her teeth. "Come back to us, James. Remember who you are. And who I am now." She is happy about none of this.

Come back. Got it. Natasha reappears where Natalia has been sitting; Bucky starts when he realizes, and then he tugs at his bonds, so embarrassed and upset that it's suddenly an issue that he can't hide. 

"Dammit, Natasha," he says, "that wasn't--I didn't...I'm not one of your targets."

Natasha swears--in Russian, she thinks--and says, "I know that, damn it, James. You think I enjoy this? But we have to get this out of you. _All_ of it."

Bucky doesn't really think that reason is good enough, and he really doesn’t think _this_ is how to fix up someone’s crazy time-traveling assassin head, but he doesn't argue the point. He argues another one, though.

"Fine. You can sort out what sends me down memory lane until the cows come home, but I'm pretty sure I've got the other kind of trigger tucked away up here somewhere. Might as well have Pym read me the contents of an encyclopedia."

"An _excellent_ plan," Hank says encouragingly. "I mean it! We'll do that next. I think we're doing well, here, my friends! Black Widow, try to set him off again. With or without a kiss this time."

Natasha takes a deep, hopefully calming breath. "Once more, then," she says. "Your arm." They've said the word before, she's almost certain, so she adds, "The rocket."

"I never could let go of anything," Bucky jokes, forcing his voice even. All the new and not-so-improved Bucky Barnes. "No go. Try again."

She nods. At least there's some safe ground somewhere. "Your weapons. Guns. Knives. Your mission briefs. Targets." She shrugs, unhappy and frustrated. "Hank is right. These will be difficult to track down. Red Skull."

"Had better be dead. Is he dead?" Bucky asks, just as Hank says, "No, no, this is good! If he's not getting tripped into the past as easily that means I'm doing my job. Ask about Steve?"

Natasha shuts her eyes. "Steve Rogers. Captain America. Recently your target. Formerly your partner. Where is he?"

"I was supposed to kill--" Bucky starts, and then chokes on it. He remembers nearly a century of connections to these words, some lies and some truth. In some of them Steve Rogers is dead, and Bucky's keepers are gloating over it, and then it mixes itself up with the his orders to assassinate Steve in a New York City side street. All Bucky can think is Steve Rogers is dead, where he is is _gone_ , familiar awful faces gloating over it, and all he remembers is Steve saying "Hey, Buck," in that way, with that smile, and he remembers pointing the gun at Steve's head. He can't remember what happened next.

He can't remember anything except that he never misses.

He can't breathe at all for a few seconds, and when he finally pulls a breath, it feels like sobbing backwards. "No!" he shouts. "No, no, tell me I didn't do that, oh, God, _please."_

"Let him find his own way back," Hank says quickly. "You can anchor him, but don't lead."

"Understood," Natasha says bitterly. She's had to watch James fall apart in front of her and been unable to stop it enough times. "Bucky. James."

Bucky opens his eyes, sees her sitting there as quietly as she is, and he knows that Natasha being quiet doesn't mean anything good or anything bad. She never gives a thing away that she doesn't want to.

"Natalia," he begs. "Na--Natasha. He thinks harder. "Natasha, just tell me if I killed..."

"Don't," Hank advises, and Bucky remembers who Hank is as soon as he hears his voice.

He saw Steve two days ago. Steve saved him from everything he's trying to get out of his head. Bucky put the gun down. Steve didn't die.

"Oh," he says, a little shocked noise. "Oh, oh good, oh." He sniffs, hard. "Okay. No. I've got it."

"Likewise," says Hank. He sounds relieved. "That was a doozy. Natasha, revisit that, could you? I want to make sure I caught it."

Natasha stands up. "No. Later. Perhaps tomorrow. Today, we are done." She goes to Bucky's chair and puts her hand on his head. "You did well. Very well." 

"Not later, _now,"_ Hank says. "Listen, if I'm doing my job, you say those words again and it's not going to set him off. If it does, we need to know so I can _fix_ it."

Natasha, annoyed with herself for being so weak, takes a deep breath. "Steve Rogers. Captain America. Target. Partner."

Bucky flexes his fists and swallows hard, but he shakes his head and says roughly, "Didn't do it. Still here. Pym's a genius, I guess, except I want to punch his lights out."

"I can _hear_ you," Hank says aggrievedly.

Natasha smiles tightly. "Both of you are doing well." High praise, for her, but she's the only one who needs to do better.

"I feel like shit," Bucky says. 

"You'll feel worse when I run the dictionary through your brain," Hank says. "But we'll do that tonight while you're sleeping. We just patched up over two hundred weak points, surprisingly enough. You should find it pretty hard to lose your place in your chronology now!"

"Are you saying we can stop?" Bucky asks. His voice is shaking. 

"Yup," Hank says. "You've earned a break. 

"Fuck," Bucky says, and sags back against the chair.

Natasha feels nearly as relieved as Bucky. She isn't good at this kind of thing anymore. She wants nothing more than to unstrap him, but that would be dangerous without at least a mild sedative in his system.

"Can we drug him?" she asks Hank. "I want him out of the chair."

Bucky laughs, more like crying. "If you put me out again now I feel like I'll wake up somebody else."

"You shouldn't," Pym says critically.

"I don't want to be asleep," Bucky says more vehemently.

"Then you won't be," Natasha agrees. "You'll stay in the cell, but awake. Yes, Hank?" She rests her hand on Bucky's shoulder. He looks like he could use a comforting touch.

"Listen," Hank says, "he should be safer now, but in theory all we've dealt with is the constantly occurring time jumps. There's a lot of programming in there that we haven't touched. If you want Bucky out of that chair, the only secure way is for him to be unconscious when you let him loose."

"I don't want to wake up as somebody else," Bucky says to Natasha. He can feel himself edging towards panic. He doesn't generally give in to panic, but it makes him dangerous and he knows it.

"Well, it's up to you," Hank says. "But you're going to have to get up sometime to, I don’t know, use the toilet, if nothing else."

Natasha wants to say she'll risk it, she'll be the one to let him loose and watch him, but that isn't fair. Not to him and not to Jan.

"You won't wake up as somebody else," she says steadily, looking him in the eye. "And if you do, James, I will come looking for you and I will bring you back. I do not fail in my missions."

"Fair enough," he says weakly. He can't fix the awful expression on his face, but come on. He's done this before. He's done this _so many times_. How often does it happen with people he trusts and no murder on the other side? He should feel lucky. He's lucky. "Do it, then, I guess," he says.

"Right," says Hank. "Natasha, out of the chamber, please."

She nods and obeys without looking back. She shouldn't feel so awful for Bucky when she knows they have this under control. And if he gets lost, she _will_ keep her promise.

The door seals shut, Hank puts Bucky out, and he flushes the air clear before Natasha goes in to let Bucky loose. 

"That was good," Hank says. "Really, I think we made a lot of progress, much more than I expected to." He stretches and looks up from his terminal. "His heart rate was up by the end. Obviously. But higher than I would have liked. We should get Bruce in here to talk to him again. Bruce keeps him calm."

Natasha smiles. She _likes_ Bruce, much more than she ever expected to. "Yes," she agrees. "A good plan. I can call him and ask if he is willing."

"If not, just drag him in," Hank says cheerfully. "I'm sure he wouldn't turn into the Hulk at _you."_

Natasha sneers, but not much. Hank won't notice, anyway. "We should not test the theory. But thank you for your advice." She pulls out her phone and dials Bruce's number.

"Tasha," Bruce says after a few rings. He sounds tired. Much as usual. "What can I do for you?"

"I was wondering," she says without preamble, "if you might be willing to come to the lab to calm Bucky down. We've been working with him, and he's very tense. We would like to allow him to...decompress before we try again."

Bruce pauses. "I'd like Thor to come home first," he says. "He's, er, also having a rough day. But I won't wait if there's no time?"

Natasha pauses. She doesn't know what Thor is doing, exactly, but... "There is time. Bucky is sedated at the moment."

Bruce sighs. "Okay. Thank you, Tasha. I'm sure I'll be over very soon. Call me if it becomes more urgent."

"I will," she lies. They can handle things here if they need to. Bruce's situation sounds urgent enough in itself. "I'll see you soon. Good luck."

"Same to you," Bruce says, and hangs up.


	20. the hulk and bucky make good conversation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hulk is like a giant green expression of Bucky's issues.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Warnings: none!

Bruce waits awhile longer, but Thor doesn't come home. As much as Bruce wants to see him first (to make sure he's okay), he doesn't think Bucky’s is a situation that can be put on hold for his convenience. He leaves a note, since there's no point calling, and heads to the Tower.

When he gets to Hank's lab, Hank and Natasha are still there. He can't see from the doorway if Bucky is unconscious or not.

"Ah," Natasha says, "good. We were wondering." She inclines her head slightly. "He is awake now. Feeling somewhat tense."

Bruce nods. He takes off his coat and leaves it on a table on his way over to Bucky's chamber.

"Can I go in?" he asks. "He won't hurt me."

"He can be strapped to the chair," Natasha says stiffly. "Including his metal arm. So he _can't_ hurt you."

"He couldn't anyway," Bruce reminds her gently, and lets himself into the chamber without wading through safety protocols.

Bucky looks, up, blinking. He feels groggy as shit, but at least he knows where and when and _who_ he is.

"Bruce?" he asks, tentatively, pretty sure he's right. He's still jittery as hell.

"Yes," says Bruce, pleased. "I heard you've had a rough day. Thought you might want some company."

"Oh, thank God," Bucky says. "You're just about the nicest guy around here, you know that?" He finds his language slipping back to the war a little and stops, frowning. Pym was supposed to clear that out—but of course it’s not going to be that easy. Even Pym had said it would take some time to settle.

Bruce waves his hand. "Don't worry about it," he says. He smiles again, a small expression. "Thanks, though. People don't say that a lot."

"People are stupid assholes," Bucky mutters. "You're great, and don't let anyone tell you different. Uh. They did some stuff to me. Shook my head up pretty bad."

Bruce grimaces. "All in a good cause?" he asks. "Well. Don't worry if you're not quite on track with me. I'm used to having more than one person in my head, remember? And you can't hurt me."

Bucky takes a deep breath and smiles. "I keep forgetting. I still don't really understand what that means. People keep talking around it." He feels himself relax a little, settle into the present more like he can trust it to stay here.

Bruce looks guilty. "I'd show you," he says. "It just hurts to let him out. I mean--I could show you, though. Would that help? He might like you, actually."

Bucky doesn't want to hurt Bruce, but he's getting a headache from too many _people,_ all of whom want something, and maybe this would be a nice change.

"Only if you want," he says, letting his curiosity get the better of him.

Bruce looks at him thoughtfully for a moment, and then says, "Hold on."

He excuses himself from the chamber and says, "Tasha. Could you do me a favor and hit me?"

She raises her eyebrows. "Excuse me? Oh. No. No, that is...a mistake."

Bruce sighs and stares at her.

She stares back. Then she says, " _Fine._ If you truly believe it will help. But if he destroys anything, it's on you. Both of you."

"We're on _very good terms,"_ Bruce tells her. "It's _fine."_

"If you say so, I believe you." And she hits him in the face--not quite as hard as she can.

Bruce staggers back, remembers he likes this shirt, chokes out, " _Damn."_ Then his vision goes red, and he can hear the roaring in his ears that's probably him roaring.

Hurts to change.

Natasha sighs and watches. It looks painful.

Hulk, when his head is clear enough that he can see, sees Natasha looking at him. He grunts. 

"Think Hulk's a freak?" he says. "Not as much as you, lady." He turns to the cell Bruce's friend the soldier is in. The little man with the metal arm is staring at him. "Let Hulk in," he orders. "Got to say hello to the metal arm man."

She nods to him coldly and opens the door.

"Whoa!" Bucky says. Then, "Hi. I'm Bucky. But maybe you know that." This is weird, but he's seen weirder.

"Hmm," says Hulk. "You've got another name. Or two. Can't remember who."

Bucky nods at the strange creature. "Yeah. Not sure who I'm _supposed_ to be. And you're...not what I expected."

Hulk scowls suspiciously. "What'd you expect Hulk to be? Puny Bruce?"

Bucky chuckles. "Puny? That's how you think of him, huh? And you're supposed to be the opposite?" Honestly, though, Hulk is oddly soothing in the same way Bruce is.

"Not opposite. Better." Hulk says this insistently, even though he doesn't hate Bruce as much as he used to and he thinks it might be the smallest bit unfair.

"Nuh-uh, buddy," Bucky says. "You haven't impressed me yet, and he keeps right on doing it. So just take it easy." He can't believe he's telling a giant monster this. Even if it is kind of a cute giant monster.

Hulk growls. He doesn't feel so bad now. "Hulk smash," he explains. "Hulk keep puny Bruce alive. Hulk fight _anyone,_ save from people who try to kill us."

Bucky smiles. "Yeah," he says, "I do that, too." _That's_ part of who he is. That's true. He thinks.

"Hmm," Hulk says. "People call _you_ a monster?"

"Since I was a kid," Bucky says. "Too violent, they said. Doesn't know how to control himself. Then some other stuff happened and no one had a chance to call me a monster, because I'd already killed them. I don't know about now."

Hulk frowns. "Hulk killed before," he says. "Doesn't now. Friends don't like it. Puny Bruce never likes it. We try harder. Sometimes Hulk is angry, though."

Hulk is like a giant green expression of Bucky's issues. "Wow," he says. "Uh. I get that."

"They don't trust you?" Hulk says. "Wanted to tie you up. Afraid of you, or your metal arm?"

"Both, I think," Bucky says, although he doesn't exactly feel frightening at the moment. "My head's a mess. I don't know who I am half the time, or what I'm after. I don't blame them."

"Metal arm man’s afraid of himself?" Hulk asks.

"...Yeah," Bucky says softly. "Wouldn't be if I could just figure out who I am." He's not sure that's true.

"Thinking too hard," Hulk says. "Puny Bruce says he and Hulk need to get along. Need each other."

"Yeah? Think I need the Winter Soldier?" Bucky can smell snow and dust and gunpowder when he says the name.

Hulk shrugs. "You shut him up, pretend he doesn't exist? He becomes like Hulk." Hulk smiles viciously. "Winter Soldier gets ignored too long, he comes out and _destroys._ Gives you _payback."_

"No," Bucky says, "Whoa, no, it's not the same, okay? I mean, I don't know what exactly it is with you, but he's not...There's no good in him. In me. In that me. He wouldn't come to some messed-up kid's cell and give him advice."

"Don't ignore," Hulk repeats. Puny Bruce would have a--an _analogy._

 _Like building pressure until something explodes?_ Bruce offers. Hulk grunts in irritation.

"Build pressure," he says. "Til it explodes."

Bucky guesses he can see that. "What, then? Let him out? I don't know if I'll be able to find myself again."

Hulk shrugs. "Dunno. You figure that out, kid. Bring out and fight. Just don't let him kill all your friends, right?"

Bucky laughs. "I--yeah. Yeah, that's a good idea. Listen, thanks. I feel more--" Human, he was going to say. "Awake," he says instead.

"Good. Sleep head is horrible," Hulk says. "Hulk knows."

Bucky nods. "You get it. I should have known you would. Bruce gets everything. I'm glad you two are here."

Hulk is startled. "You call us two people," he says.

"Whoops," Bucky says. "Is that wrong? I mean, you seem like two people. You're pretty much polar opposites." Except the part where they both exude that same weird calming influence. Maybe that's just Bucky being nuts, though.

"Right," says Hulk. "That's right. Tiny crazy man with a metal arm is better at thinking than other people."

"Not wild about the description, pal," Bucky mutters, but he's flattered that both Bruce and Hulk seem to like him all right.

"Huh," says Hulk. "Hulk's name not so pleasing either."

"Where did you come from, anyway?" Bucky asks. "Who was first, you or Bruce? Or were you born together?"

Hulk scowls, and then doesn't, because that might be alarming and he doesn't really want to alarm the kid. "Science experiment," he says. "Puny Bruce wanted to make more of your Captain America. Made himself lab-rat. Got me. Killed his friend. Had to hide."

Bucky frowns. "Wanted to make more of..." Well, of course, everyone had been doing that since they first got Steve. He just didn't think it would ever wind up with something like _this._ So Hulk is a failed version of Cap.

Like hell. Bucky smiles. "That's rotten, but it turned out okay in the end, right?"

Hulk bares his teeth. "Better than Red Skull," he says.

Bucky laughs in surprise. "I--yeah. Way better. I guess Bruce must have been a decent person to begin with. And maybe an angry person." He tries to ignore the uncomfortable, sick feeling he gets when he thinks about Red Skull.

"Puny Bruce not so decent to Hulk," Hulk says. Bruce almost protests in the corner of his mind, but Hulk frowns and Bruce subsides. "Hated Hulk. Wanted to kill him. Started runnin' away from everything. Said Hulk was just a monster. Stupid. Bad."

"But you're not a monster," Bucky says, fascinated. “You're just angry. I get what that's like. And I think Bruce does, too. Now, anyway. What happened to make you guys start getting along?" Whatever it is, he wants it. Maybe it'll help him get along with _anyone._

"Needed me to live," Hulk says. "Guilt complex." He shrugs expansively. "And Thor likes Hulk, so Bruce pleases Thor. Wimpy negotiations. Begged Hulk to be friends. Huh!"

"I don't call that wimpy," Bucky says gently, wondering if Bruce can hear him in there. "Seems to me like it takes some balls to do what either of you is doing." He only hopes he doesn't have to do it. The Winter Soldier isn't something he _wants_ to let out. Neither, for that matter, is the kid he used to be in the war.

"Hurrrg," says Hulk. "Puny Bruce not so bad these days." He feels Bruce glow a little, and stomps his foot to get him out of the way.

"Lucky Thor," Bucky says, managing not to sound too bitter. He's still kind of stunned that people are allowed to just _be boyfriends_ these days.

"Hah!" says Hulk. "Little metal man jealous? Maybe not ugly enough to get a mate. Gotta be big and green like Hulk, or fuzzy little mouse like puny Bruce."

Bucky laughs. "Jesus Christ. I've done okay in the past, you know? But give me a chance. I can get a _mate_ if I want one. And I don't need to be green or fuzzy."

"Just not in here, right?" Hulk suggests, rudely amused.

"No kidding," Bucky agrees. He thinks of Natalia for a second, remembers that's off the table, then realizes he isn't sure if it has to be. Huh.

"They let you go soon," Hulk says. He skips a "when." "You make problems, they get Hulk. Hulk stops you doin' anything bad. So don't worry when they let you go. Got it?"

“...Thank you." Bucky clears his throat. "I really--thanks. I believe you." He doesn't think a lot of people can stop him, but he thinks Hulk can. Hopefully before he hurts anyone important. Or anyone at all.

Hulk leans in. "Hulk can fight the Avengers," he says. " _All_ the Avengers."

The word _hot_ floats into Bucky's head before _good,_ but thankfully he doesn't say it. "That's good," he breathes. "I'm glad." He hopes that's good. He hopes Hulk is good.

"Not really a problem," Hulk says. "Just sayin'. If you think you can take Hulk, you can't."

"I don't exactly doubt it," Bucky says. "Your fist is the size of my _head."_

"Yup," Hulk agrees. "Hey. Too much talking. Puny Bruce can come back." No one ever talks with Hulk this long without fighting or fucking. It's making him tired.

Bucky nods. He's ready for Bruce again. He already feels way calmer, and he doesn't want to stop. "Okay. Bruce."

"Goodbye, little metal arm man," Hulk says, and signs off.

Bruce comes back to his body with a groan. He has to catch himself on Bucky's   
metal arm.

"Sorry," he gasps, and then grabs his own arms and shivers. "So how'd it go?"

"Shit," Bucky whispers. "Bruce, are you--are you okay? That looked--Sorry." He blinks at him. "Never seen anything like that before."

"Sorry," Bruce says again. His teeth are chattering. It's cold in this stupid lab. "Didn't mean to alarm you. It's fine. That's, it always works like that. It's better than when I was resisting it."

Bucky hesitates. "So...What you and Hulk are saying is that I should stop fighting the other versions of me in my head. Right?"

"Huh?" Bruce says. "Oh. Maybe that's what _he's_ saying. I honestly don't know. Hulk is--drug induced, but he's an emotional reaction. I mean, he only ever reacted to himself and to what was happening to me. He isn’t programmed. I think he _can't_ be programmed. I think that might be different."

Bucky relaxes a little more. "Okay. Good. Good. I don't want it to be like that. Maybe it works for you, but my monsters are worse." _And I don't want Steve to see them,_ he adds in his head.

"Not worse," Bruce says sharply, and then checks himself. "I'm just not sure the Soldier has the same potential to be a person that Hulk always did. He was (pardon if I'm wrong) the result of attempts to make you _less_ of a person, right?"

Bucky nods slowly. "Yeah. He's just...blank. An assassin. All physical, nothing in his head. He’s me _without_ me." His headache is coming back. He wants to see Natasha.

"Hey," Bruce says. "Sorry. We don't have to do this. I'm not here to analyze you, actually. What do you like to eat?"

The question catches Bucky off guard and makes him feel dumb. "I don't know," he says, half smiling. "I grew up on army rations. I hardly ever got to choose a meal. I'll eat whatever you give me."

"Hmm," says Bruce. "Okay, this is disingenuous of me, because I am actually a horrible cook. My cooking skills amount to, 'how to survive when you leave your girlfriend and go on the lam in South America for a few years while not learning much about human happiness.'"

Bucky grins. "Gotta be better than the army," he says. "Maybe Thor can cook us something." He's willing to bet Nose gods can't cook, either.

"Thor tries," Bruce acknowledges with a smile. Bruce's smiles always seem to come attached to something crooked, in his mouth or his eyebrows or just in his eyes. But still. He seems to mean it.

"Lucky bastard," Bucky says comfortably. "Well, once they decide I'm not too fucked up and I get to come out and play, maybe he can do that."

"We do takeout," Bruce offers. "Though I look forward to getting to talk to you--not like this." He winces. "You're taking it awfully well, but I never like being chained up, especially for my own good."

"I do," Bucky says without thinking, just like the Bucky of the war would have. He laughs apologetically, "I mean, yeah, I'd like that."

This time Bruce's grin is a little less damaged. "I bet you would," he says, and then coughs to cover it up. "I'll see what we can do. About food. That makes you want to keep living."

Bruce gets several more points in Bucky's good books. "Thanks. I'll just...sit here quietly." He thinks he will, actually. His head isn't screaming at him at the moment.

"We should get you some audiobooks, too," Bruce says. "Um--like radio programs where they read books aloud, but you can control when they play. You probably know that. Anyway. Even if that plan did go awry, at least we'd know a little more about what sets you off. Any interest? Any genre."

"I like war stuff," Bucky says. He immediately blushes. "Great, now I sound like an idiot with only one interest. But I guess war kind of _is_ my interest. Well, that and--" He can't say men. Can he say men? It might have come across as a joke in the past. Now it might be okay. Too late now.

Bruce raises his eyebrows. "You can like whatever you want, although I might advise you that people are watching you from out there." He gestures back through the glass walls to the lab beyond.

"Natasha wouldn’t mind and Hank wouldn't notice," Bucky says, grinning. "But thanks. War audiobooks it is."

"Wanna hear how the end of _your_ war went?" Bruce asks. "If that's too much I can just skip to another one. Maybe not the Cold War for now. Korea? Vietnam? Any number of Iraqs. Don't let Tony catch you listening to those."

"Let's do Iraq," Bucky says, not really out of any lingering spite toward Tony. Mostly just because it sounds the farthest from something that'll set him off in any way.

"First Gulf War," Bruce says. "Got it. Context. Okay. I should go. Thor's having not the best day and I need to sort some things out for you. I'll be around, if that's okay."

"It's okay," Bucky says. "You've already done a lot." He gives Bruce a warm smile to show that he means it, he's listening. "I hope your boy's okay."

"Thanks," says Bruce. "We'll see." He gives Bucky a little wave, and shows himself out.

"How're things?" Hank projects from across the lab.

"All right," Bruce says. It's even colder in here than it is in Bucky's chamber. He digs in his bag and pulls out a spare shirt before he puts his jacket on. "I want to get Bucky a few amenities so he doesn't go crazy in there," he says.

Natasha nods. "Good thinking. That hadn't occurred to me. If you like, you can give me a list and I will track things down. If you have places to be."

"More proper food," Bruce says. "And maybe some less, er, militant changes of clothes? I'm going to get him audiobooks. About war! I told him if it triggers anything you can use it for science."

Natasha smiles. "I can do that. Thank you, Bruce. I know you have...some stress right now." She will leave the prying into that stress for the next meeting about Loki.

"Hmm?" Bruce says. "Oh. Yes. I guess we all have that, most of the time. Anyway. I'll see you soon."

"Good luck," she says, nodding to him.

"Thanks," Bruce says, and lets himself out. He still has no idea where Thor is, so he heads up to Tony's apartment to find out if he's still around. He could ask JARVIS, but it feels awkward to follow people by computer. Even a nice computer.

That doesn't work. 

He knocks on Tony's door, and JARVIS says, "Master Stark is in Captain Rogers's apartment, sir."

"Oh, good," Bruce says. But he sort of has to know where Thor is. "Is Thor in the building?"

"Not at present," JARVIS reports.

"Okay," Bruce says. "Thanks, JARVIS." He heads to Steve's apartment instead.


	21. a steve and tony interlude is incited by bruce

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve thinks maybe Bruce could have done a better job of not intruding by not coming here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Warnings: PTSD

Tony has stopped shaking when he hears the door, which is good, because otherwise he'd probably give himself a heart attack. He doesn't really look presentable, though.

"I'll get it?" he says anyway, disentangling himself from Steve.

"No you don't," Steve says, standing up first. He gives Tony a kiss on the forehead. "My apartment, remember?"

Tony nods and stands up anyway, ready to hover behind Steve. He wishes there were a mirror handy so he could see how badly it looks like he's been crying.

Steve opens the door on Bruce Banner, who looks more pained than usual.

"Hi," Bruce says. "Sorry. Is Tony here? I'm looking for Thor."

"Here!" Tony says too loudly, elbowing his way around Steve. "Present. I talked to Thor a while ago, but he left. I thought he was going home." Actually, Tony isn't sure he listened very well at all to the second half of their conversation. Thor could have said he was going to the moon and Tony wouldn't remember.

"Home home?" Bruce says. "I mean--our house? No. Sorry. Never mind. I'll check there, let you know if he's done something stupid like fly off to Asgard. Sorry. I'm trying not to intrude."

Steve thinks maybe Bruce could have done a better job of not intruding by not coming here.

"No, no, it's fine!" Tony says brightly. "I just hope you find him!" He should probably stop talking so fast. He needs Bruce to go away.

"Sorry!" Bruce says again, feeling suddenly and acutely awkward and alarmed. Tony looks unwell, and he's doing that sharp, bright thing that means he's about to crash. "Sorry, Tony, thanks, I hope Thor didn't," he starts, and then takes his exit as fast as he can.

When he's gone, Steve hazards looking at Tony, to see what he's picked up from that.

" _Shit,"_ Tony says. "Damn it. No, Bruce is right, he's probably gone to Asgard. I was too busy freaking out to pay attention."

"Bruce will tell us, if that's the case," Steve ventures. "And you can't exactly follow him to Asgard, if that's where he is."

Tony nods."Right. Nothing we can do. _Damn it._ I really hope he doesn't get himself killed. He's chasing down this Loki thing, and it's...not good."

Steve hasn't really had the chance to think about that yet, since Tony kind of came over needing all Steve's attention on him. But Tony had said...

"This Loki thing," Steve says. "It's--is it anything like what you've been telling me about? I know you can't say," he hurries. "I just mean, if it's anything like that--Thor is probably wherever he thinks he can hurt somebody over it."

Tony makes himself stop digging his nails into his palm. "Then that's probably where he is," he says, his voice brittle.

Steve touches Tony's shoulders, a light pat, just asking if Tony wants more.

Tony knows he'll crash if he lets Steve hug him, but he also _needs Steve to hug him._ He turns and buries his face in Steve's shoulder, shaking again.

Steve holds him tight, hard enough that he can’t mean anything but the okay thing.

"Tony," Steve says. "Listen. You don't have to field this. There are other people on the team, good people. They can be Thor's liaison. You can't expect yourself to act as the stronghold, here, not when it's hitting you this close to home. You can't let your own team hurt you like that, buddy. Right?"

Tony nuzzles Steve and keeps his eyes shut. "No," he says. "No, I can't afford this right now. Not with Nick on my back. Not with my complete _failure_ to handle the Bucky situation. I have to do something, Steve, or I'm not much of a leader."

Steve is actually terrified, just then, because he can feel the tension in Tony's bones and he thinks Tony would kill himself to prove he was good enough.

"Nick Fury is a real asshole," he says. "You haven't failed with Bucky at all. Look. He hasn't killed anyone. Do you get--do you get what a big deal that is for him? Now? You haven't let him kill _anyone,_ Tony. You're probably the biggest damn hero he's got in this place." He takes a quick breath. "Anyway, your team's working on it. He's getting better. You're not letting some cold-blooded SHIELD-funded pervert of a scientist turn him into a, a new kind of weapon or a spectacle or a corpse." He lets out a half-sob. "You don't even know how grateful I am for how much you're not failing."

"Oh," Tony breathes. "I--I didn't know. That. I didn't know you felt that way. Stupid, I should have--" He grabs Steve's hand. "I believe you, all right? I just hope the rest of the team agrees. Because you're right, I don't know if I should be fielding this one." He feels himself relax as he says it. Okay. Right choice.

Steve grabs Tony's face, both sides, and says, "Tony Stark, if you put yourself through torture just to prove to Nick Fury something I already know you can do, you won't be saving anybody. Okay? If you've got a team that can do some of these things for you, it just means you've got a good team."

Tony makes a small sound and blinks at Steve. "I," he says, half choked, "I don't want them to know this is happening. I can't keep it out of my head. I just need some time, and we need to assign someone else to it, and--"

"Hey, hey," Steve says. "I didn't mean you have to tell. I just mean you're a good leader and they're a good team, and they can do this. And they're not going to ask, okay? Well, Clint will ask. But I'll threaten Clint's teeth with my fist."

Tony laughs. "Yeah, okay. That's a good plan. I can work with that. We can't do anything until Thor gets back from Asgard, anyway."

Steve makes a worried face. "No," he says. "I guess not." He winces. "I'm a little concerned about what he'll find out."

"I've been trying not to think about it," Tony admits. "But I get the impression it's going to be...bad. I don't want to spread his business around, but it's _already_ bad."

Steve nods, slightly curious but really not interested in prying. "I guess all you can do for now is figure out who he's going to tell when he gets back."

"I think he'll go to Bruce or me," Tony says, considering. "I think it depends how bad it is. He might want to avoid Bruce."

"And if it's you?" Steve asks. Tony _would_ agree that this is the wrong deal for him and keep trying to do it all anyway.

Tony takes a deep breath. "How do I send him to someone else without sounding like an asshole? And who the hell do I send him to?"

"I don't know," Steve says. "Well--not Natasha. She doesn't fix this kind of thing, does she? Not Clint, not Hank, you and Bruce are off the roster, I...suspect he'd be ashamed to tell me." He shrugs. "Jan?"

Tony lets out a dubious breath. "Yeah," he says. "Yeah, I think that would be okay. I think she's trustworthy on stuff like this."

It hits him how little he knows any of them, but he doesn't think he's wrong about Jan.

Steve looks at his face and laughs. "I know," he says direly. "We're clueless. But she's a good kid. Loki almost killed her, remember? And the worst she's said about him is he's crazy and she feels bad."

"That is promising," Tony agrees. "Okay, if Thor comes to me, I swear I'll send him to Jan. Good?"

Good," says Steve, and hugs him so tightly that he couldn't answer if he wanted to. Steve even forgets, for a minute, to worry about breaking the reactor in Tony's chest.

Tony just holds on, thinking, _Thank you._


	22. thor and victor learn the worst

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> But it explains Loki better than anything else has.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Warnings: disclosure of past rape, incest, dub-con

After Thor leaves Tony, he considers going back home to Bruce, but only for a second. He can't just sit around and _wait._ He needs to know who else is on this list, and if any of them are people he can hurt. It may not help Loki, but he's too angry and distressed to care. He goes to the nearest Bifrost site and waits, hammer in hand. 

Heimdall sees him there, and he could leave the Bifrost closed. But he doesn't.

"Odinsson," he says as Thor arrives. It's a condemnation, but Thor does not know that yet.

"Heimdall," Thor says, really looking at Heimdall. He has done this more and more since his first exile. "I would speak with you of matters concerning my brother."

"I know what you would seek to learn," Heimdall says. The question is, what will Thor ask?

Thor swallows. "I know this is not my business," he says, "but people have been hurting my little brother. I need to know--" _The wolf,_ he thinks, _ask about the wolf._ But he cannot. "How many?" he asks.

"'Hurt'?" Heimdall answers. "Many. Including yourself, Odinsson. And himself."

"You know what I'm asking," Thor says, clenching his fists. "How many have...have raped him?"

Heimdall's all-seeing eyes very nearly blink. "That too is difficult to answer," he says. "Some were half-seduced. Some have only watched." He looks well past Thor, now, into other worlds.

Thor covers his eyes with his hand. "So many? Where would I even begin? Here in Asgard, surely."

"He came to me only once," Heimdall says. "And that did not begin in Asgard. But I think you will find it hard to pursue your vengeance to the foot of Jotunheim's throne."

"No!" Thor cries. Another piece of the puzzle slots into place as he remembers Loki's vehemence about destroying the Jotuns. "How did no one know?"

"If they had known," Heimdall answers, "they would also have known that Loki could slip between the realms without my aid. He only returned by the Bifrost so that the Jotun prince would not also know the secret way."

"Always so careful," Thor whispers. "Even when it does not serve him well." He should have seen. He should have seen any number of things, of course. Well, this will be his payment. He will see now, and he will not look away.

"Tell me," he says. "Tell me about the wolf."

Heimdall has carefully neglected to mention why he let Loki's journey to Jotunheim go unremarked, has neglected to mention the favors Loki offered, the acceptance of which Thor might deem as predatory as the actions of the Jotuns. He flinches when Thor cuts through all the other questions he should be asking, to one Heimdall does not immediately expect.

"I am honor bound not to tell you," he says. This is his answer, if only the stupid boy will listen. It has haunted him for years.

Thor swears and throws down his hammer on the Bifrost. "Tell me," he snarls. "Tell me _something,_ Heimdall. All of this has happened behind my back, behind the backs of most of us, I would judge, and I demand answers. If he was assaulted by a foreign prince, why did we not go to war? If he was assaulted by--by our own _brother,_ how did my father never hear of it? And the wolf? Did he lie with wolves? _Tell me."_

Heimdall breathes deeply, and his tone never changes. He desires with his whole heart that Thor will understand the truth, as much as he desires with his whole heart that no one will learn the truth, because it will tear Asgard down around them.

"Loki convinced me not to tell of the prince and his guards," Heimdall says--more terrible truths hidden in the calmest declaration. His heart rages. "I was fond of the boy. It seemed one of his scrapes. I feared there would be worse punishment for him if the king knew of his trespass."

"My father is a fool, but not that much of one, surely?" Thor says. But he remembers how badly Odin wanted an alliance with Jotunheim. "Or I could be wrong," he says. "But Father never punished Loki as he did me and Tyr."

"He did not," Heimdall says. His voice is cold.

Thor takes a step back. "What are you...?" He takes another.

"Who is Odin All-Father?" Heimdall asks.

Thor shakes his head, his mouth filling with names. There are too many. "I don't..." _I can't..._

"Loki did not lie with wolves," Heimdall says. "And when his brother Balder took his vengeance for hurt pride, I believe it was the end of Loki's faith. You did not know of Balder’s deed, Odinsson, and nor did anyone, because by then Loki did not see that there was anyone left to tell."

Thor gasps and falls to his knees on the Bifrost. "No," he whispers. "Heimdall, no, _no._ But _why?"_

"I am bound by honor not to tell you," Heimdall says. His voice grates. The words must be spat from his mouth. "What beast is Odin god of, my prince?"

"...Wolves," Thor says numbly.

"You are correct," Heimdall says. "Lessons are taught well in Asgard."

Thor stands, sick and cold. "This isn't possible," he says, not meaning it. "This is _monstrous."_

Heimdall stands unmoving. "I have nothing to say on the latter," he tells Thor. "But I was present when the wolf was made. Let it tell you what is possible."

Thor narrows his eyes and flings himself at Heimdall, seizing the edges of his breastplate and shaking him. "You were _there?_ You saw him do this and you allowed it?"

But of course Heimdall saw. He sees everything.

"I held your brother down," Heimdall says. He wonders if Thor will try to kill him. He can't see that, and it would almost be a relief. Heimdall carries many things; he has only rarely been an actor in the things he despises.

Thor lets out a great cry of rage and beats Heimdall's chest with his fists, but it is not Heimdall he hates for it, and acting as though it is would only make him a fool.

"You could not disobey him just that once?" he asks through clenched teeth, stepping away.

Heimdall says painfully, measured and slow, "I am bound. By honor. To obey. My king."

It isn't a metaphor. But no one has ever asked.

Thor swallows, too angry to cry. "I...Then I am sorry. I am sorry this happened to you, too. I am sorry for all of us. And I will not allow this to stand."

"Do not tell me what you will do," Heimdall advises. "Or I may be forced to undo it." He does not know whether he wishes that. He has waited all this time for someone to ask, but Odin is his king, and he is not disloyal. He does not know, moreover, who could rule as well if Odin died.

"I cannot, as I do not know," Thor says stiffly. He feels as though nothing is quite real, as though this is still just some massive trick. But it explains Loki better than anything else has.

"One more question," he says softly. "What of Tyr? He has ever harmed Loki in such a way?"

"No," Heimdall says. "Tyr's tempers hide no malice, even since the wolf took his hand."

Thor bows his head, immensely grateful for that. "Then Loki has two family members who will still fight for him," he says. "He will not lose them, no matter how he tries." And now he can see why Loki would perhaps try.

"Although he has no love for me," Heimdall says, "my wish would be that Loki is made whole again." The cycle says Loki is always dangerous, but Heimdall does not see why the danger shouldn't pass.

Thor nods. "Thank you, Heimdall." He is still too angry and horrified to cry, but his eyes prickle. "Loki has more allies than he realizes, even if none of us are any use to him. I would return home now." He stops. "To Midgard, I mean." He has to see Tony. He can't fight Odin, not like this. He would, he suspects, die.

"I can return you home," Heimdall says. It's as he suspected; Thor has let him off. He feels as though the blow he waited for hurts worse by never landing.

Heimdall's expression does not change when he sheds tears, but neither does he wipe them away.

Thor looks at Heimdall properly again before he goes. "Your king is a monster," he says. "But you are not."

"Travel well," Heimdall says, and sends Thor away.

~

Doom waits as long as he can before bringing up the _reason_ that Thor came here to attack him. They've had dinner and now they're having wine, and finally Doom says, "I believe you deserve to know _why_ your brother was so intent on protecting you from me when he came here."

He shuts his eyes and takes another sip of wine. He hates to ruin Loki's mood, but if Thor blindsides Loki with this, it will be worse.

"I assumed it was because you attacked him first," Loki says ominously from behind his glass.

"I let you assume that, yes," Doom says. "I simply warned him away from us. His reaction was sparked by something else. It seems he's been looking into your past."

Loki's mouth thins. "And did he find anything, sweet Victor?" he asks.

Doom straightens up in his chair and looks Loki in the eye. "He found out about at least one of your...assaults. The one at the hands of your brother. You never told me that's what happened."

Loki goes utterly still. "Decided you have a lot in common with Balder, did he?" he says, but it doesn't come out sneering or bitter or sardonic. It comes out small.

"Yes," Doom says viciously. "I corrected him. And if I didn't think you were perfectly capable of fighting your own battles, I would offer my services in bringing Balder to justice." Loki doesn't sound capable at the moment, but Doom knows better.

Loki shivers. "Don't say that," he says. "You'd have to fight all of Asgard, you see, because they'll all take Balder's side, and then you'll be dead."

"Are none of them men of honor?" Doom asks, enraged. "Well, Thor and I could surely destroy most of them." The words are out before he considers them.

Loki flinches. "He shouldn't even know," he whispers. "I don't know why he was digging around. He should know by now it isn't his business."

Doom shrugs. "Yes, I agree. He thinks he has to do everything in his power to intrude on your life and 'fix' you, I think. He still can't understand that you're happy now." _Happier,_ Doom thinks, _than you were in Asgard._

"Yes, of course I am," Loki says. "Happy." His eyes flick up to meet Victor's. He hasn't thought specifically about Balder, about what Balder _did,_ about begging him to stop and watching his eyes go cold and feeling him--

He hasn't thought about that since before he fell.

"Loki," Victor snaps. He launches himself out of his chair to grab Loki's forearms. "Loki. I'm here."

Loki shudders and comes back to himself, half back to himself, the other half is drowning in vivid remembrance and there is nothing to be done about it. "Victor," he says. "Victor, my family is poison. My brother, my father, they're brutes, they rip monsters from me." He takes a gulp of air, and another, before it turns into an awful giggle. "And it doesn't even matter whether I’m their real family, because the real ones had me too. It's practically _art."_

Victor tries not to let the horror show on his face. It won't help. And he knew all this, he just didn't know what . . . But he should have guessed it would be this bad, to make Loki so brittle and wild.

"Midgard is your home now," Victor says when he can calm himself enough to speak. "Latveria. And I am your home. I would _never..."_

Loki sobs. "Why not?" he says. He tugs at Victor's grip on his arms. "Why not? I believe you. I don't understand you. The most perfect creatures in all of Asgard would rape me just to teach me a lesson, princes of Jotunheim would do it, what makes you so different, a little prideful mortal _murderer?"_

Victor doesn't let go of Loki's arms. "Asgardians do not deserve the name of _god,"_ he spits. "They abuse and waste it. I have more honor than any of them. When I strike, I strike _fairly._ What else does victory mean? If I abuse my power over helpless creatures, I have gained nothing."

"Don't call me helpless," Loki begs. He doesn't mean to. All he can feel is each of them.

"No," Victor says. "No, you never are, are you? Because you can hurt all of them. But they _did_ have power over you." He squeezes Loki's arms, trying to anchor him.

"I can't, Victor," Loki explains, and he finds himself slipping under the weight of it. "I can't hurt them. I can't hurt any of them. I can't get back at any of them. They're all too powerful, they were always too powerful and they have whole realms on their sides, and I am _alone_ on my side, Victor, I'm only what people laugh at. If I told I'd be a joke, if I fought they'd kill me. I can't do anything. I can't do anything. I can only tell this Midgard mortal how all-powerful I am and run away from all the proof that it's the grossest _lie."_

"You are _not_ alone," Victor says, pulling Loki up from his chair and holding him close. "You will never be alone again. If you want my help, it's here. Even if you don't want Thor's help, it's here. Both of us would do battle for you, and we would _win_ for you. I have tricks you've never dreamed of. And I have never met a better witch than you. You may be afraid, but you're not powerless."

Loki is uncharacteristically tongue-tied for half a minute before at last he works out what he means and says it as he means it.

"I don't want to do battle," he says quietly. "If I wanted true revenge I wouldn't toy with the brother who never deliberately hurt me. I’m not as mad as that." He still has to fight to speak the other part, which is the part that matters more and is therefore more important _not to say._ He does anyway, almost inaudibly, for better or worse. "I...want to be safe."

Victor pauses, his chest aching. Then he clears his throat and says, "Whenever I can give you that, I will. I've already given you a home, and now I've made Thor promise not to come there without our permission. I will never, ever hurt you in that way. You are safe."

Loki brushes tears out of his eyes because he can't see anymore and it doesn't feel smart to let himself be blinded.

He has a vivid, aching memory of what it is like to hold somebody comfortably, without fear and without desperation. He hasn't remembered to want that in a very long time. He wishes he didn't remember it now.

"Thor was my friend once," he says instead, not any of the things he intended. "Before I was mad, he didn't look at me like that."

Victor didn't know that, but he might have guessed, from how Thor acts. Not self-righteous, just concerned. Afraid for his little brother.

"If you ever wanted," Victor offers, "I think he would let you be his friend again. I think he wants that. Or rather, he doesn't understand why it's not the case anymore." He kisses Loki's forehead. "But no matter. _I_ will never look at you like that."

"You started off with a damaged copy," Loki sighs, and tries to kiss Victor's mouth in return. Victor kisses him, his hands holding Loki steady. 

When he breaks the kiss, he says, "But I love this one." He meant to give Loki a torrent of helpful reassurances, but that is all that comes out.

"Victor," Loki says. As though he can't think of anything else. As though he's agreeing. As though that's a silly thing to feel.

But Loki trusts Victor. If he can't say so, he can at least, suddenly and tentatively, become aware that it's true.

Victor clutches Loki to him. "You are safe," he says again. "And I do not allow Asgardians into Latveria."

Loki relaxes in increments. "Only me," he whispers, and buries his face against Doom's armor.

Victor strokes Loki's back. "Only you."

~

Bruce's flight in search of Thor doesn't last long; he gets as far as the Tower's main door and sees Thor coming in for a landing. He's moving fast, and his face contorts in a way Bruce hasn't seen before. So he's found something. Bruce waits outside the building, to see if Thor will stop and speak to him.

Thor has to blink a few times before recognizing the last person he wants to see. All he feels is murder. Bruce can't see him like this. The last bits of kindness were spent on Heimdall, and now Thor is being eaten alive by hate. 

"I can't," he says, pushing past Bruce.

Bruce staggers back a step, and doesn't quite manage not to get his feelings hurt. It takes him three of Thor's long strides to decide he'll chase after him, too, but he does. Bruce doesn't say anything; he just catches up, deliberately conspicuous, and looks at the ground in front of their feet as they walk towards the elevators. Thor stops in front of the elevator but he doesn't press the button. He's dimly aware that Bruce is here to _help,_ but at the same time, he can't imagine what help there is in a world where this can happen.

"My brother," he says stiffly, "gave birth to a wolf. That wolf is our father's child."

Bruce looks blankly at the elevator doors until they open, courtesy of JARVIS.

"Where are you going now?" Bruce asks.

"I was going to report to Tony," Thor says. He can't make himself look at Bruce. "Heimdall told me...he couldn't even give me a number of times."

"No wonder you're upset," Bruce says. He means both of them, Thor and Loki.

Something in Bruce's tone, something in how calm he is, makes Thor snap. He cries out and strikes the wall with his fist, leaving a dent. Then he is finally able to turn to Bruce. 

"I don't know what to do," he says raggedly. "My little brother was raped I don’t know how many times. By my _family._ I don't know how to make something like that better."

"I don't know," Bruce says. "I don't know either. Tony was upset too, after you talked to him about Balder. I mean frightened upset. I mean maybe you should come home first before you report anything to him."

"Why--" Thor says. No, that's too much. Too many people he loves being hurt. "All right. Whatever you want." He just can't keep making choices, because all they lead to is more horrible truths.

"Come home," Bruce says. He's still staring at the elevator, which is starting to shut. He doesn't mind the Hulk anymore, but he's practically paralyzed making him stay inside right now. If Hulk comes out right now, he'll kill someone.

Thor turns to Bruce, frowning, really seeing him. "Bruce," he says. He takes his hand and squeezes. "I'm taking you home. We don't have to--I can talk to someone else about this. Not Tony, not you." He can see the lines of tension in Bruce's jaw.

"I'd like to go home," Bruce says. "I'd like to talk to you. I'm sorry to complicate things. I don't want anyone to get killed. By me. Accidentally."

Thor nods. "Would you like to talk somewhere that's not home? Outside the city?" He feels good. Focused. This is something he can fix.

"Oh!" Bruce says, startled. He forgets that things like that are even a possibility. Usually when he needs to get away from people he has to settle, and usually it's not good enough. "Upstate," he sighs with relief--though not total relief, because the tension is still cutting through him. "Yes. Where there's no one."

Thor scoops Bruce up in his arms, heads out the door, and flies. He takes it slow enough that Bruce won't panic, but fast enough that if he does, they'll be out of the city in time.

He finds an area with nothing but some trees to set Bruce down.

"I don't want to change," Bruce says. "It's not about us. I don't want to make it about us."

"We're here where no one can see," Thor says, trying to keep his voice level. "It's all right to be angry about it. I'm angry about it. We just need to make sure I don't say any more _stupid, useless_ things to Loki."

"It's not your fault," Bruce says softly, but he can't stop hearing Loki's sneering, spitting voice saying _don't let a god fuck you._ "It's not your fault," he says again, more vehemently, and then swings his fist at the nearest tree. " _It's not. Your. FAULT."_ The word echoes through the woods and the trunk of the tree fractures invisibly with a loud crack. Bruce has never changed so fast. Hulk hardly knows where he is or what he's doing.

"Hulk," Thor says, startled out of his own rage for a moment. "It's all right--" No, reasoning with Hulk is never any good. "It's not all right," Thor amends. "But you're right. It's not my fault. It's Odin's."

"THE SAME EVERYWHERE!" Hulk thunders. "Stronger people hurt weak, everyone blames _weak people._ Monsters all proud of themselves!" He crashes the side of his hand against the tree he's killed and it shudders in the ground.

"Hulk," Thor says again, not sure what he wants in response. But he knows what he wants. He wants to destroy this entire forest until he's stopped being angry and can focus on what Loki really needs.

He hefts Mjolnir and swings it at a tree.

" _Smash,"_ Hulk agrees. He topples his first tree with a bloodcurdling yell and begins to tear up another by its roots.

Thor destroys nine trees before he can stop.

His arms are shaking, and he's sobbing aloud. When the drops his hammer, he turns to Hulk and says, "Enough."

Hulk lets go of a tree before he can hurt it and marches over to Thor to lift him into a huge green hug. He feels better now too. His anger is something to work from. It can't overpower his intentions, for now.

Thor clings to Hulk until he's no longer crying. "Thank you," he mutters. "Thank you, thank you, thank you for being here." He means _thank you for existing._

"No problem," Hulk says gruffly, but he can't sustain this kind of thing for very long. He lets Bruce take over. Bruce's grip is small and weak compared to Hulk's, but he still clings to Thor and says, shivering, "If there's a single thing we can do to make it better, we will make it better."

Thor kisses Bruce's hair and holds him up, fitting his hands to the new shape of Bruce's arms and back. "I know," he says. "I love you so much, Bruce Banner. You are an honorable man."

Bruce gives him a squeeze. "Okay," he says. "Let's go home and have some tea. And then we’ll figure out who you talk to."

"Yes," Thor says gratefully. "Let's go home."


	23. janet van dyne is the woman to see

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The good thing about Jan is that she forces Thor to do what Bruce and Doom told him he needs to do more of: listen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Warnings: discussion of past rape/sad loki

Bruce waits until Thor has swallowed enough hot tea that he can't help being calmed down, and then he says, "We should call Tony and ask who you're meant to talk to."

"I just talked to him last time," Thor says, frowning. "Was he that distressed? Granted, it is upsetting, but..." Tony was so helpful.

"Let's just call ahead," Bruce says. He has instincts, which he tends to follow.

"All right," Thor says, not really minding taking direction. "I should...phone. Yes."

Bruce smiles briefly. "Yes. Phone." He digs his out from the pocket where he's put it and offers it to Thor. "I can call if you hate phones."

Thor shakes his head. "Thank you, but I can do it. I should learn to use them." He eyes the beasts dubiously before "dialing" Tony's number.

~

Tony isn't ready to hear the phone ring yet. He jumps when it does, and has to look down quickly to avoid Steve's expression.

"Thor!" he says brightly as soon as he answers, which is the wrong call, obviously, who is in a good mood in this situation?

Steve says, "Tony," in this kind of unnecessarily parental tone.

Tony says, less cheerfully, "Thor. Hey. I need to kind of be an asshole."

"Ah--I was simply calling to ask who I should report to," Thor says quickly. "I've found out more. I think I've found out everything. Who should I...debrief with?"

Tony practically chokes on relief, and then there's a terrifying second thought, which is, how does Thor know?

That only takes a second, though. Bruce. Of course Bruce. Bruce is too damn smart. Tony isn't sure he likes being friends with Bruce after all.

"Can you talk to Jan?" he asks. "I asked Jan if she could field some of the--the details, if you were up for it. I...listen, I'm sorry, I sort of overestimated how useful I'd be in this situation."

"Of course," Thor says. "Tony, I--I think any number of people might find themselves useless in this situation. I'll go to Jan." He just hopes she has a way of being other than...bubbly.

"Oh," says Tony. "Oh. Okay. Great. I mean, thanks. I'm not--I'm not foisting this issue off on somebody, it's important, don't worry, I just." What does he just? Nothing he's about to actually say. Shut up, Tony.

Steve is looking at him and Tony is choosing to turn around and face another direction.

"I know," Thor says. "I mean, I don't, but it matters not. Whatever your reason, it is not an easy thing to listen to. And you helped me, last time. You've done your part."

He keeps putting Tony off with handfuls of reassuring words, so he won't have to hear that another of his friends was hurt.

"Okay," Tony says. "Have Jan check in with me when she’s debriefed you, all right?"

"Of course," Thor says. "You should...drink some tea." He stares at his own cup, and gives Bruce a helpless look.

To his own surprise, Tony laughs. "That sounds like a great idea, actually," he says. "Hey. We're here, okay? Your team is with you on this. Take care."

"Thank you," Thor says, blindingly grateful. "I know. I'll have Jan check in soon." He takes a moment to remember how phones work before shutting it and blinking at Bruce. "I'm going to talk to Janet," he says.

Bruce nods, after a second. "Okay," he says. "Good deal." He smiles and shakes his head. "I'm pretty sure, anyway. Never know with Jan."

Thor agrees. He isn't sure how he feels about bringing something so serious to her. "Do you think it will be all right?" he asks. "After what Loki did to her, I mean?"

Bruce tries to think of what he knows about Jan, which, granted, isn't all that much. She treats everyone on the team like a friend, though, all of them, and like people, too. She doesn't seem to think twice about it. It's a little alarming.

"I think she'll probably be okay," he says.

Thor nods. He feels sick at the prospect of telling someone else about this, but with each person he tells, it feels less horrifyingly impossible to understand or repair.

"I'll go there now," he says. "I want to--" To get this out of his head, but it isn't his to get out. He shake his head. "I just want to wrap this up."

"I'll be here," Bruce says peaceably, and sips his tea.

Thor stands to go, but before he does he bends to kiss Bruce on the forehead. "Thank you," he whispers.

~

Thor meets Jan at her house, where he's never actually been before. He's running out of ways to tell people these things in a way that feels something other than devastating, and he just hopes telling Jan will be all right. He knocks, nervous.

It takes Jan a minute to get to the door, because her house is really big, right, and she doesn't really keep staff there on weekends, so first she has to hear the bell and then she has to get the door, and she was in the middle of both internet shopping and looking at pictures of Natasha that Natasha only 95% definitely knows she still has.

She does get the door, though, before Thor decides to cut and run. Which it looks like he might want to do.

"Hey," she says. "Come in. Tony told me--well, come in and I'll tell you what Tony told me."

Thor come in. "This is a more impressive palace than my father's," he says, but then his brain catches up with his mouth and he feels ill again. "I--I mean, it's nice. I'd like to sit, if I may."

"Yeah, come on," Jan says, and waves him after her. She moves right past the first place where they could be sitting (she named that the 'chillaxation room' when she was fourteen and it still has some of the problems of getting to decorate when you are fourteen) and into her dad's den, which still has a lot of his books and his giant leather chairs and a fireplace, which Jan turns on. There's nobody home, but she shuts the door behind them.

"Okay," she says. "The one over there is comfiest."

Thor smiles and takes a seat in the comfiest chair. "My thanks. I assume Tony told you about Balder?" He isn't sure of that, though, if Tony wants to stay out of this as badly as he sounds like he does.

"Tony didn't say much," Jan tells him, curling up in the only slightly less comfy chair. "He said you'd started finding stuff out about your brother." She makes an angry face. "He said the stuff involved assault, but he said it in an upset voice, so I'm guessing he meant rape? He didn't say...Balder is your brother too, right?"

Thor swallows. "Yes. The youngest. He moved away when he got married, and we've barely spoken since. Before he left, he--assaulted Loki. But he wasn't the only one. Heimdall told...there have been so many..." He can't fall apart. Not again. He thinks of Hulk and the forest and make himself breathe evenly.

"Okay, now you're doing it too," Jan says. "Assault means rape...right?"

"Yes," Thor says through his teeth. "Yes. Loki was raped by Balder and the prince of the Jotuns and...and our father."

The smallest, most really not okay part of Jan points out that, wow, that is kind of the nine realms a-list of surprise celebrity sexual assault criminals, but that reaction gets drowned out almost instantly by what Thor has actually just said.

"Oh my god," she says. "I knew I felt bad for that kid."

Thor smiles weakly. "Aye. I did as well. I just never knew why. He was always so sad. And I don't think that was the only reason, but it...it cannot have helped that he felt unsafe in his own family." Thor realizes with an awful jolt that there's a chance Loki didn't feel safe with him.

"Your pal Sif didn't seem to make him too happy either, and I don't think she's a secret child abuser," Jan observes.

Thor shakes his head. "Everything made him unhappy. The only times I saw him smile were the times he spent alone with me."

Then Thor thinks back to the numerous days he found Loki in his room with that odd little expression and wonders, Where was he before that?

"Hmph," Jan says emphatically, but it doesn't help, she's tearing up like a big girl anyway. "You know what, your country really stinks. That's not really fair, this kind of stuff happens to kids on Earth all the time, but seriously who gets the short end of the stick that hard, y'know? God! I just wanna fly back to Latveria and tell your baby brother to stop trying to kill me long enough that I can give him a hug."

Thor laughs and wipe his eyes. Jan was the right choice. "I feel the same. Except I've been told maybe a dozen times to stop trying to intrude on his life and fix matters. But I...Jan, do you think he's afraid of me?"

He thinks back on Loki coming to his room in only a thin robe, Loki coming in with wet hair and bruises, Loki coming there pregnant, Loki coming there in tears, and he thinks, No. He trusted me enough to come to me afterwards.

Jan thinks about that one. "Well, you probably remind him of them," she says. "Sorry. But, I mean. You probably do. And, I mean, he couldn't know you wouldn't betray him to them on accident, since you didn't ever know."

Thor draws a sharp breath. "I...I cannot bear this. I cannot. My little brother has been hurt and there is nothing I can do."

Jan winces. Wrong move. "Um. Another thing," she says. "You're kind of on his side? I mean. You really are. But Asgard has kind of screwed him over big time. He probably doesn't get why you won't just let it go and ignore him like everybody else back home."

"Of course I'm on his side!" Thor snaps. "He's my brother. And he's not a little monster like Balder or a brute like Tyr. I'll never give up on him."

"Hey, hey," Jan says, waving her hands at him. "I get that! Tried to squash me flat and I totally get that. I'm saying maybe he doesn't? Because being his brother doesn't...mean that. For him." She shrugs. "I mean, when half your family and all your friends are evil assholes, no offense, who teach you to have, like, no self-worth, what do you do about the one guy who keeps chasing you with a hammer going, HEY WHERE ARE YOU GOING ASGARD IS AWESOME?"

The good thing about Jan is that she forces Thor to do what Bruce and Doom told him he needs to do more of: listen.

"Ah," he says. "I see. And how should I fix that? By telling him I've been digging up his most humiliating secrets? With self-righteous anger? This was easier when I could just hold him without knowing why he needed it."

"Yeah, but check out how much good that did in the long run," Jan says. "If I were you I'd cry it out until you’ve worked through your manpain, go find him, and say, hey, I know this stuff now, I won't try to bring you back to Asgard anymore and by the way if you ever want to chat I promise I'm still not a sick motherfucker who's going to ruin your life, and by the way, I think the blue looks great and you should wear it whenever you feel like it, I hear the X-Men are blue all the time. Something like that."

Thor blinks at her. It sounds simple, coming from her. And there are parts he hadn't thought of.

"Oh," he says. "That."

"Yeah," she says. "I mean. It's a suggestion."

Thor nods. "I think I'll take it. I want to get some rest. I feel as though I haven't slept in weeks. Then I think I'll contact Loki and ask him if he wants to meet."

"Good god," Jan says. "I mean, 'you are a.' Go take a nap. Let Bruce hug you. Good luck with your brother."

Thor stands up, leaving the comfiest chair behind. "Next time I need something, I'll skip Tony and come straight to you," he promises.

"Good plan," she says. "I'm harder to emotionally bruise! Also I am pretty sure I like your crazy brother. You know, attempted murder aside."

Thor keeps thinking Jan's attitude should be more offensive, but it never is. She reminds him of Sif, in some ways.

"I'm glad you do," he says. "I appreciate the advice. I'll let you know how it goes."

He doesn't add, You'll know if it goes badly.

"Thanks," Jan says. "I really hope it goes okay. It would be nice if one person around here stopped looking quite so stressed out. And anyway, like I said. I want him to stop trying to kill us, but it would be great if he could catch a break for apparently the first time ever."

Thor hates to think of it that way. He knew Loki wasn't happy in Asgard, but he always thought of it more as a general dissatisfaction, rather than something punctuated by horrific violations.

"I hope he can," Thor says. On a whim, he bends and kisses Jan's hand. "Farewell, friend."

Jan smiles and uncurls from her dad's chair. "Come on," she says. "I'll show you to the door."


	24. bucky barnes is getting past it

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Her face is so still he can see the pain laying cracks in it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Warnings: brainwashing, PTSD, flashbacks to traumatic injury

Bruce leaves and Bucky gets some lunch, and Hank explains that the next step is testing whether the new connections are going to hold, seeing where (if anywhere) they need to be reinforced. So more of the same, basically, if hopefully a little less nauseating. 

“We’ll give you awhile to wind down,” Hank says, but pretty soon Bucky realizes he doesn't just want to sit around waiting for the next shitty thing to happen. If it worked, it worked, and either way, Bucky would rather know now than later. The waiting around and calming down is not really a help. Bucky leans over and hits the comm button on the underside of the chair's arm, and peers out of the glass to see if Pym or Natasha are paying attention.

"Hey!" Bucky calls. The lack of response straight off makes him nervous. "Natasha! Hey, can we do this. Can you knock me out already and get going?"

Natasha is sitting at one of the lab tables, perched on a stool and glaring at a briefing from Nick Fury that she has no interest in dealing with. She shuts it, frowns, and stands up. "If you like," she says. "Hank? Are we ready for testing?" She doesn't want to push Bucky, but like him, she wants to be done with this.

"Oh, sure! If you’re ready," Hank says. "Let me just..." He puts in the command and floods Bucky's chamber with tranquilizing gas.

"Thanks," Bucky says, half sarcastic, before he staggers himself into an unconscious heap.

Hank waits another ten seconds, then ventilates the chamber.

"There we go!" he tells Natasha, jogging over to the chamber door.

She gives him a slightly dubious look before following. No one should be so cheerful about deprogramming a brainwashed prisoner. She lets herself in and helps lift Bucky into the chair, strapping his arms down. It’s getting more difficult for her, every step of this process. She has to grit her teeth to do it.

Hank double-checks Bucky's restraints and rigs him up so he will be able to read every twitch in Bucky’s pulse and every spark of his synapses. If they’ve missed anything, he’ll catch it this time through, and he’ll fix it.

"Okay," he says. "Good luck! I'll guide you if we need anything you're not getting out of him." He waves and leaves the chamber, locking it behind him.

Natasha takes a moment to ready herself. Then she says, "Winter Soldier. Wake up."

Bucky's eyes snap open. He sees Natasha, although he's still dizzy enough that she's a little blurry to him.

"So far so good," he says. "Bucky all the way. Twenty-first century Bucky, even.” 

Natasha doesn’t smile, but Bucky can see the glint in her eye that means she’s pleased. Or relieved, probably. Bucky knows Natasha feels relief as much as anyone, even if she almost never chooses to show it. Finally she says, "I do not know what you were dreaming, James. This is nineteen fifty-four.” 

“Twenty-eleven,” Bucky says after a few seconds. “No. I’ve got that one. It’s twenty-eleven. I mean, assuming you’re not lying to me and it’s not a really elaborate hoax. I remember New York looking a little weird for nineteen fifty-four.”

She smiles for a second, because he _knows who he is,_ but then she stops. She says, “Winter Soldier, you will wake up for them. They will hurt me if you don’t wake up.”

Maybe Bruce is too good a thing. Bucky feels like himself, even with Natasha saying this horrible bullshit. It didn’t use to be bullshit, is the thing. 

"No you don't," he says. "No, you don't. You don't need that creep. Christ, Natasha." Her face is so still he can see the pain laying cracks in it. What the hell was she thinking, letting Pym push her into this? _You knew you were doing this,_ he's reminded. _You knew they needed to test you. What are you doing?_ And then, for just a second, or just half a breath, he _is_ in Russia, and they _will_ hurt Natasha. He grabs at the arms of the chair and makes an angry, animal noise. He can't help it. He's _scared._

He’s Bucky Barnes, and this _is not then._

"James," Natasha snaps, angry with herself for being upset. She finds herself wishing for Jan and tries to put that out of her head. "Remember Russia. Remember your missions. Feel how cold the air is here, creeping in through everything."

"Not gonna do it," Bucky gasps. There are tears in his eyes, like from a strong wind. He remembers, all right. He feels it all around him, the soul-sucking chill that got through every layer of armor that lab was wrapped in. It got into your bones. It got you're your bones that weren’t bones. "You’re the Avengers. This is New York." The only cold wind is central air conditioning. 

"You are still on fire," Natasha says roughly, leaning in to grab the metal arm. "We have your parts in our hands. Go back for this. Go back because you haven't escaped it."

That's worse, somehow. The tug on his arm jars him loose in a way nothing else has. He knows where he is, he does, he’s sitting there in Hank Pym’s lab and everything is solid, except there’s fire in his eyes and hands on his body and black empty spaces where things used to be.

“Don’t,” he says.

“Remember how you got here,” Natasha says.

"I need Steve," he says, but that’s all he gets out before he’s panicking, falling down a hole like a near miss, feeling the impact before he hits, burning and bleeding with a hurricane in his ears. He can't tell if he's afraid because he knows what happened next, or afraid because it hasn't happened yet. “Steve, Steve, please, I don’t—” He knows that he’s thrashing, and the sound he makes is close to screaming. He wants to sob. He doesn’t know if he can. He doesn’t know if he is already.

“That’s not what we’re looking for,” Hank says quickly. “Ground him, Natasha, fast.”

"James," Natasha says furiously. She hates doing this, and now she feels horribly guilty, which makes her angry. It's a chain of emotions she'd rather not feel.

“Please, please, Natasha, please, I can _feel it,_ I can feel it _burning.”_ Bucky is begging. He falls back, gasping. "Tasha, fuck's sake, knock me out, make it _stop!"_

“You’re not tripping over programming,” Hank says. “That’s pure traumatic flashback.” 

“Look at me!” Natasha says. She puts her hands on his shoulders to hold him together. “You are uninjured. You are safe. James, look at my face. It is not happening anymore. I lied. I was testing you. You are stable. You are safe.”

"Is that what you call this?" he shouts. "You can turn me on and off like a light switch, that's _stable?_ Just spray a little gas in my face, make me into whoever you want to see next? I’ll play anything you want, just give the fucking order!"

He's unbearably angry. He wants to rip himself out of this chair and kill someone. He wants to see if it makes him better.

"We shouldn't have done this," Natasha says, but what she means is that she shouldn’t have miscalculated. "James, look around you. Calm yourself. Focus.”

"What if there's nothing left?" he asks. "What if you keep looking for this way to pull forward all the okay parts and they're all just covered in _him?"_

“Sputnik,” Natasha says coolly.

Bucky stares at her.

“What the _fuck?”_ he asks.

“That was a verbal trigger, James,” she says. “That was in your head a day ago. Now it’s not.”

Bucky turns his head away and stares into—nothing. _Oh._ He hadn’t known it was there. 

"There are worst things to be than a person tainted by his worse half," Natasha says, a little roughly. She's still the person she was when she worked for Hydra. She hasn't put that away in a compartment.

"He's not a person," Bucky says hopelessly, because somehow Natasha doesn't get that. He's _not_ a person, though. He's a weapon. He's a liability. He's the chance, every second he's free, that someone is about to set him off and murder the people he'd die for in a second. Except--

"And that wasn’t him," she says. "That was you. Only you. You did not let him out; you only could not help remembering. James, if he ever comes out again--we will not allow you to hurt anyone. Do you understand this?"

Bucky catches his breath and nods. "I'm sorry I couldn't just stay a dead hero," he says. He means that.

"What?" Hank says. "Don't be silly. Captain America didn't stay dead. Why would Bucky?"

Natasha smiles. "Not just a cold-hearted scientist, Hank."

"Okay," Bucky says. "Okay. I—does this mean I can get out of here soon? They gave me so many years where I couldn't fucking move."

There's no one else on hand better-equipped to make the call, so Natasha makes it. "All right. If you think you can control yourself."

If he can't, she can. Probably. She considers this while she unhooks him from Hank’s gadgets; Hank opens the door.

“Come on out,” Hank says.

Bucky is out of the chair and through the door in a second. He sighs in relief and sits heavily on the floor, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. "You don't have to let me stay out like this," he says. "You know, if you’re feeling threatened. If you don't want to."

"I don't feel threatened," Natasha says, mostly truthfully. She wants Jan, but that’s not why. "But if you'd like some time alone, I can go. If not, I can stay as long as you need."

"Could you stay, then?" Bucky asks. His voice rises on the last word, and he has to swallow hard. "For awhile. Fuck. I wish I could just hug you, y'know? Any of you. Without feeling like I was putting your lives at risk." He sniffs. "They didn't want me to feel human anymore. Guess they did pretty well, huh?"

Natasha knows it's probably a mistake, but she kneels by him and puts her hand on his head. "James," she says. "Would you like a hug?"

Bucky raises his arms, and then falters, and lowers the mechanical one again, so that the hand is pressed palm to the floor. His flesh-and-blood arm is still half raised, palm up and questioning.

Natasha grits her teeth, but not so Bucky can see, and takes both of Bucky's hands in hers. Then she pulls him into a hug, forcing his arms around her. Every instinct says this is a mistake, but so is letting him slip away to become colder and colder.

Bucky doesn't move for a few seconds--he's as tense and still as an animal that isn't sure it meant to be picked up. But something in his shoulders settles, and his arms press carefully against Natasha's back. He makes a couple of abortive attempts before he tucks his face against her shoulder.

"I really did mean to just die," he explains, muffled enough that maybe she can't hear him.

Natasha clears her throat and holds him more tightly. "For whatever it is worth," she says, "I'm glad you didn't."


	25. loki and thor are not without hope

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He looks at her, at his half-Jotun half-sibling, and all he wants is to keep her safe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Warnings: past rape/incest, sorrow

After Thor gets some rest (and, on Jan's advice, hugs Bruce), he sets out for the Latverian embassy. He doesn't know if Loki is still there, but going to Latveria without warning seems like a bad idea. He's going to progress as slowly and politely as possible. Not that it will matter, since Loki will be upset by the time this conversation is over no matter _what_ Thor does.

If, that is, Loki will even see him. The door of the embassy has been repaired, Thor notes when he arrives. He presses the unnecessarily ornate bell and stands well back, following everyone's advice (and Doom's orders) not to step on any toes.

He has to wait for a full minute before there's any sign of life from within, but finally there's a scratch of static and Doom's voice says, with an irritated buzz, "You're back. Already. What do you want?"

"I wish to speak to Loki," Thor says. "With his permission. There are matters I must discuss with him." He fights a wave of nausea. He doesn't know exactly what he's going to say, even after talking to Jan.

There's a pause. Victor doesn't want Thor to talk to Loki. It never ends well. But Thor is being _polite,_ and Victor did tell him that the choice was Loki's. He supposes that's just as true of who Loki decides not to talk to as it is of those he does.

"I'll inquire," he says brusquely. "You'll wait?"

"Yes," Thor says. He chews his lip nervously and rubs his hands together to warm them, although it's not all that cold.

Victor abandons the intercom and goes upstairs to find Loki, who's curled up in a chair with a book. She looks positively relaxed until she sees him.

"Oh, now what?" she asks. She shuts the book over her finger. Victor almost doesn't want to ruffle her, but then Thor might break down the door again. 

"Your brother is here," he says. "Thor. To talk to you. I don't know what he wants this time. Would you like me to tell him to go away?"

"Ugh," Loki says. "This is why we shouldn't stay here, Victor. Too many flies." She sits up and gets to her feet, smoothing herself out and abandoning her book on the side table.

"I suppose you'd rather I come down? Don't want my brother getting too far inside your walls again."

Victor sneers. "I think he'd crawl off if I asked him to. He's stepping on eggshells to avoid driving you off. It's pathetic." He wonders, though, if Loki would _rather_ talk to Thor. He doesn't know if it would do more harm or good.

"I'll see him," Loki says thoughtfully. "I want to know what he's been digging up. Better to find out before he's blabbed to everyone he can think of. I don't like being the last to know." She brushes at something invisible off her sleeve again. She's afraid of what Thor might know, even if it's only _him._

"Have him up here," she tells Victor. "A reminder that you're a better keeper than he."

 _Doing this in a safe place,_ Victor thinks, moving to the control panel that will open the door. He pauses for second. "Would you like me to stay?"

Loki hesitates. "No," she says, "I think I'd rather you didn't."

Victor presses the button that will open the door, clenching his other fist. "That's fine," he says. "Fine." He can't always be here making sure Loki's family doesn't do stupid, hurtful things. "I'll be in the other room if you need me."

"Naturally," Loki says with a complicated smile. She puts herself back in the chair, legs crossed, hands curled over the arms.

There's only a minute or so between Victor's exit and Thor's hesitant entrance.

"Loki," Thor says, a little surprised, as always, to find Loki female. He never knows how to react. Loki gives him a look which is designed to be both innocent and condemnatory of his confusion.

"Thor Odinsson," she says, not as poisonously as she could.

He flinches. He cannot stop himself. "I have asked questions I should not," he says. "I want you to know, brother--" He stops, angry with himself. "Sister? Loki. I want you to know I will not try to convince you to return to Asgard."

"You _are_ trying hard today," Loki murmurs, which may sound like mockery, but truly she is uneasy. Thor's fumbling attempts to follow anything but his immediate instincts are relatively new. It means he's paying too much attention. "That's very well," she says. "Your opinions have no effect on my choice of residence."

"I mean," Thor says, "I mean--" What does he mean? "I _mean_ I wish you'd _told_ me."

"What?" she asks lazily. "About Balder? I don't see why."

"About _Father,"_ Thor snaps. "It would have changed everything."

Loki freezes. "What about father?" she asks. She doesn't expect that he really knows about--he couldn't possibly have found anyone to tell him. There have been so many secrets, there's no reason to think of _that_ immediately.

"That he raped you," Thor says bluntly. His hands are shaking. "Heimdall told me. But he didn't tell me _why."_

"Don't," Loki says. Her leg slips from its perch on her other knee and she grips the chair's arms helplessly. "It was forever ago. Don't. What would it have changed? Why did you have to _ask that?"_ She knocks her book to the floor and then snatches at her arms, digging her nails into her flesh.

"I'm sorry," Thor says, horrified at how Loki has just shot off in so many different directions. "But I found out about Balder and then I had to keep following it until I _knew._ If you'd told me then, I would have risen up against him. Fled Asgard with you. Anything. I would still do anything."

Loki bolts up out of her chair. "If I'd told you _then?_ " she hisses. "Are you blind, Thor? Are you such a fool? If _I_ had accused Odin Allfather of raping his ill-favored witch of a child, do you know what would have happened? They would have cut his get from my belly and burned me alive for seducing their king. They would have stoned me half to death and cut my tongue from my mouth. They would have thrown me into a pit with that monster of his and let it consume me." She backs off. "Or they would have called it a joke, and beaten me for my poor sense of humor."

"I would not have let them!" Thor cries, disgusted, but he knows Loki is right. He knows what Asgard is, and now that he's seeing it from the outside, he doesn't disagree for a second. With a king capable of doing this, what are Asgard's people capable of?

"That's right," Loki sneers. "First-born, best-loved. Simply exert your will and surely Asgard will rearrange itself at your feet."

"Asgard will rearrange itself before my _hammer,"_ Thor snarls. "Before Tyr's mace. The king is a monster." Lightning crackles in his fingertips for a moment.

"Tyr?" Loki says sharply. "You haven't spoken to him."

"No," Thor says, subsiding. "And I won't if you don't want me to. This is all in the past, and if it would hurt you more to stir it up, I won't. But I want you to know that I love you and I would never hurt you like that. Ever. Nor would Tyr. I want you to know that you're loved." He blushes and casts the sparks from his fingers. "I will protect you in any way I can."

"Too late," Loki says shortly.

Thor bows his head. "I wish I'd known. How could he do this to you?"

"Apparently I invite it," Loki snaps. "A beating is never enough for me, you see. You all must remind me that you're _men of Asgard._ You may occupy the lowly space of _next in line,_ but I must not dare to think I belong anywhere but in the dirt!"

Thor shuts his eyes against the words. If he'd known any of this, he would never have tried to make Loki come home. 

"You never even did anything wrong," he whispers. He remembers Loki's face, quiet, sad, composed. Never causing trouble, except as a joke.

"Yes I did," Loki says in a rush. "I crept into Jotunheim, didn't I, and I was stupid enough to be caught. I caught father, too, prying where I shouldn't have been, playing with Laufey, screaming like they'd kill each other with their wretched lust and hate. Of course he had to shame me, or I might have shamed _him._ And I betrayed Balder, after all that, because he dared to leave me and I was such a child I couldn't let him go without sabotage. Reasons enough. I gave them all reasons." She trembles so hard she feels sick.

Thor steps forward and grips Loki's forearms. "They deserve _death,"_ He spits. "Death and worse. They deserve ruin." He pauses as the specifics of Loki's torrent of words sink in. "Laufey?"

"Why in the nine realms do you think father thought he had such a right to me?" Loki snaps. "Why else am I so _small?_ I'm not only Jotun, you know."

"WHAT?" Thor demands.

"Perhaps he's kinder to your mother," Loki hisses. "I certainly hope so. She's so very delicate."

Thor steps back, rocked. The little he knows of their father's politics and Jotun biology tangle in his head until he can see how it is. He takes a deep breath. "Then you are my brother by blood," he says. It's not the most important part, or it shouldn't be, but...

Loki laughs, sobbing into it. "Keep scrabbling for scraps," she tells him. "Blood makes it truly my father who raped me, and my brother." She laughs again. "I didn't even know when it happened that one of the Jotuns was my sibling as well." She looks at Thor with a cold smile, the one that means she's preparing to hurt someone. "Well, big brother? Are you so sure you don't have a taste for unwilling lovers? I'm sure I'd hardly even notice."

Thor gasps aloud. "I--I would never--I would sooner _die_ than harm you. You must believe this." He looks at her, at his half-Jotun half-sibling, and all he wants is to keep her safe.

" _WHY?"_ she screams. "As far as I know it is your neglect and nothing else that has saved me from you! You want everything near you to be _nice_ so that you can carry on being irresponsible and stupid! But you kill my kind, so why not the rest?"

"Don't!" Thor shouts. " _Stop."_ He doesn't have time between words to contextualize their entire relationship, to realize what Loki must have thought of him all along. "Did you always fear me?" he asks. "Did you always see me as just another potential brute who would do you harm? If you did, why come to me after the others hurt you? Why let me hold you?"

Loki can't back up. She bursts into tears instead.

Thor's hands hang at his sides, useless. "I can go, if you like," he says. "I'll leave right now and never come near you again if that's what you want, sister."

Loki covers her face with her hands and weeps. She can't force the words out. She can't reach out. She hasn't reached for anyone since Balder--even Victor has been reaching for _her,_ for months and months until she doesn't always hurt him for it.

Her stupid brother, the one who has never really hurt her, is going to leave.

But Thor remembers Bruce saying, _I told you I won't break,_ and he remembers about guessing. He steps forward and wraps his arms around Loki, pulling her tight against him. For a second she doesn't believe it, and the she's sure he's going to kill her—and then she decides she doesn't care. She sags her weight against his chest. Thor holds her close, stroking her hair and whispering her name over and over. Whatever madness has overtaken her, whatever abuse she has suffered, she is still willing to let him hold her. And that means he still has his little brother.

She pulls back, finally, face red and hair in disarray. She almost says something quick, to get Thor _away_ because what she's just let him do is foolish. But she's tired. She's been tired for so long.

"Was it my fault?" she asks. Because maybe that's why he's sorry for her.

"Never," he says vehemently. "Never, Loki. No one _ever_ deserves such treatment. Our country and our family are broken, and you've received the worst of it. I don't blame you now for fleeing."

"I deserved _something,"_ she says, staring at the ground. "Of course." She meets Thor's eyes. "If I didn't do anything wrong, father and Balder wouldn't have--acted. Would they?"

"I have seen more and more what a monster father can be," Thor says, frowning. "And Balder is a spoiled, ineffectual little brat. I suppose it shouldn't shock me that either of them is a rapist." He shouldn't have to say these things about his own family, he thinks distantly.

Loki is startled into a laugh, but it dissolves back into tears. "I should just be a boy," she says hopelessly. "I always cry more like that than like this."

All her defenses against Thor are vanishing. What's happening to the barrier she's been putting up so carefully for so long?

"Of course," Thor says. "Anything. Whatever helps."

"Hm," she says, with a crooked little expression, and then stretches out into his other Asgardian body. He hugs himself. "I know," he starts. He can't look at Thor. "I knew, at the Bifrost. You hadn't—you tried to save me."

"Yes," Thor says softly. "I didn't even know what--I didn't know what had happened to you. Not in those few days and not before. Not until now."

"Oh," Loki says. He feels stupid and terrified. "You were--you were gone, weren't you? Because I helped you get into trouble, so father would..."

Thor swallows, horrified all over again. "I had no idea. When I left, you were _fine,_ or at least as fine as you ever were. When I returned, you had _broken."_

Loki sits down abruptly in the chair he'd vacated. There's another close by; he hopes Thor follows suit, because Thor is too tall and Loki still has half a mind simply to attack him.

"Don't," he says. "Don't call me that."

Thor drops to his knees next to Loki. "I'm sorry," he says. "It's what I saw. But you're all right now. You're here with--with Victor. You're away from there."

Loki says, "We shouldn't be doing this. You shouldn't try to make up with me. Victor and I will still do terrible things that your little team will hunt us for."

Thor sighs. "And I'll be in a very bad position. For what it's worth, I think half my team is now more concerned for you than angry at you. They all came to the conclusion that you must have had a bad childhood."

Loki scowls.

Thor kisses his forehead. "They're not wrong, little brother."

The scowl drops off Loki's face. He says, "What if the terrible thing were destroying Asgard? Would they mind that?"

Thor hesitates. It has...been in his mind. Since he spoke to Heimdall.

"I wouldn't mind," he says.

Loki's eyes dart up to his in shock. "You don't mean that," he says. "No, Thor, you cannot mean that at all. You may be angry and petulant and violent but you wouldn't turn your vengeance on your own people."

"My own people?" Thor asks. "Or my father? What if we leave Asgard standing and depose its king?" He half thinks Loki is right, that he cannot mean this, but--maybe.

"Oh, and who will you put in his place, Thor?" Loki says, exasperated.

"Not me," Thor says firmly. "I am done with Asgard. And not you, of course. You're happy here. Not Tyr." (That last is obvious.) He considers. "I confess I do not know. But this cannot stand."

Loki brushes aside his own discomfort. "I'll think on it," he says. "I'll have Victor think on it too." He shifts in his seat and mutters, "Perhaps your lover would have an idea or two."

Thor frowns. "If I am going to be asked to tolerate Doom, you _must_ apologize to Bruce and Jan." He might be asking too much, but this is going better than he thought, so he's going to push.

Loki frowns hawkishly. "I've been known to produce giant hand-eating wolves," he says. "You oughtn't to boss me."

“Wolves!" Thor says, remembering. "That's another thing. You should apologize to Bucky and Tony as well." He tries a smile.

"You can't just," Loki starts, but he doesn't say, _come here and tame me._ "All patched over, all is well, no differences of opinion, sorry I tried to _kill_ you? I'm not--" Cured.

"Sorry I tried to kill you will do," Thor says firmly. "And not trying again. I'm not asking you to be their friend."

"I might do it again," Loki admits.

Thor sighs. "I would rather not have you lie. But if we're going to work together, I need assurances that my friends will be safe. Or Doom will not find himself safe from me."

Loki grips at his own arms and swallows until he doesn't feel ill and says carefully, "I feel all right, right now."

Thor takes Loki's face in his hands and kisses his forehead. " _Good."_

Loki catches his hand. "I mean," he says, "I don't know if it will remain this way. I don't even know--" He catches on the words and has to start again. "I don't even know if this is really happening."

"Loki," Thor says sternly, masking his fear in false confidence. "Trust me. If you can, please, just try. I think we can make things all right."

Loki gazes at him for a few seconds before his expression changes. "You're going to leave and I'm going to remember how to hate you," he says. "You're going to leave and overthrowing Asgard will be my plot, that I planted, and everything you've learned about me will be lies."

Thor doesn't know how to fight a lifetime of things like that being true. "I don't know what to say to make you believe me," He says helplessly. "But I will bring in others as well. I will speak to Tyr. I will speak to my friends. There will be enough of us that no one can blame you and you alone."

Loki shrinks back. _Too many people._ Too overwhelming. Too much change. "You won't believe me either," he whispers.

"How often have you tried telling me the truth to give the me chance to believe or disbelieve?" Thor asks, honestly curious.

"Stop it," Loki says, even more quietly. His shoulders hunch defensively, like Bruce's. "I--you were always..."

Thor puts his hand on Loki's shoulder. "I don't know," he says. "I don't know how much of our childhood was true. I got so many other things wrong. Maybe I got us wrong, too."

"I told you the truth more when we were younger," Loki mumbles, "but you were always so _right_ about everything. And the truth got worse. So I didn't bother anymore."

Thor's fists clench in anger. "I would tear Asgard apart to undo that has been done to you. But as that is impossible, I _will_ bring father down."

Loki shivers. "I might run away," he says. "I might deny everything to everyone. Maybe it'll be your hubris and not my lies they blame."

"Maybe," Thor says, knowing that it's true. "Or maybe we can repair some of the damage."

Loki hugs himself again, looking into Thor's face. He's not sure why this had to wait so long. He's not sure if it's too late. He's too young and too old and his mind is a wreckage, and if he becomes Thor's friend again, he might lose Victor, who has never hurt him without trying to understand how and stopping it. He could get everything he wants in revenge or it could eat them whole.

He feels like such a child. Surrounded by lives he has to pick from, at the expense of all the others.

"We truly were friends," he offers. "Even when I lied."

Thor shuts his eyes with relief. One thing, then, was as it seemed. "Good," he says. "I don't know how it could have been otherwise. And...do you think we could be friends again?" Never mind how that would complicate things with the Avengers, with Bruce. He will deal with that after.

Loki gets to his feet. He is so full of conflicting terrors and wants that he feels he could be sick.

The truth.

"You're asking," he says, "more than I can--I can't say that today." This is already more than he thought he could give. It's not because he does not want it. He almost thinks he does.

Thor nods and stands as well, taking a few steps back to give Loki space. "It was more than I expected," he says. "If you like, I can let Doom--let Victor back in and go. We can talk again soon." He doesn't want to push.

"I," Loki starts. "I want..." He wants to be touched. He wants the reminder that Thor is gentle. He wants this to be real, because it's better that he has awful choices than just delusions he can't reach through.

Thor spreads his arms wide, full of potential choices. "What do you want, brother?"

Loki flinches. "Nothing," he says.

"That has never been true," Thor says.

Loki peers at him hopefully. He reaches out his hand, palm up, leaving it unclear what kind of reciprocation he's looking for.

"I was only afraid of _you_ because you're fair," he says. "I was afraid that if you knew, you would tell me they were right."

Thor makes a small, pained sound and grabs Loki's hand without thinking about it. "Oh, Loki. Loki. You have never deserved that."

Loki manages to breathe and push himself forward into Thor's arms. "You make me feel I've driven myself mad over nothing," he says softly.

"You have not driven _yourself_ mad," Thor says into Loki's hair.

"I didn't think there was anything left," he explains.

Thor holds Loki as hard as he can and says fiercely, "You were wrong."

Loki hooks his hands over the crooks of Thor's elbows. "I'm sorry I forgot."

Thor smiles so hard his jaw aches. _His brother._ "It's all right. Things are going to be...better now. Not perfect, but better."

Loki draws back, eyes glittering, but smile real. "Brother," he says. "Now, don't get any silly ideas. You can't simply march on Asgard with a hammer and a witch and expect Odin to just tumble off the throne."

"I was thinking we need something bigger," Thor says, smiling tightly. "Like an army. We should speak with Tyr."

The smile fades from Loki's face. "Oh, Thor," he says. He clutches Thor's hand.

Thor squeezes Loki's hand. "I will, if you like. It's been some time since I've seen him. And I'm sure he'd be willing."

Loki says, "No. That is, yes. I'll go with you." He tilts his head. "I should talk to Victor first. Are you sure he'd be on our side? His hand--"

"Tyr's honor is like Victor's," Thor says firmly, hoping he's right. "Nothing excuses rape."

"Anyway," Loki says abruptly. "It's father's wolf that bit off Tyr's hand, isn't it?"

Thor blinks, fitting the pieces together. He knew, after talking to Heimdall, but he hadn't thought about it.

"Yes," he says. "Yes, I suppose it is. Tyr will be furious."

Loki smiles, his small smile that means some tidy piece of magic has just done exactly what he meant it to do. 

"If I wake up tomorrow and dreamed this," he says, more at ease, "I'll have to burn Midgard to the ground. But for now perhaps we'd better just call back Victor."

Thor raises his eyebrows. "Yes, agreed," he says. He pushes open the door and calls down the hall, "Doom? You can come back now."

Doom is there in a moment, clearly incredibly tense. "Well?" he demands. "You've been locked up in here for ages."

Loki catches Victor's elbows and spins him around so he's facing away from Thor, and pushes back his mask to catch his lips in a kiss.

"No one has died," he says. "They've only been reconstructing worlds in your parlor."

Doom frowns and tugs the mask back into place. "Yes? What worlds would those be?"

Loki says, angel-faced, "Thor is going to help me build an army to tear Odin off the throne of Asgard."

Doom glances at Thor and then back at Loki. "Excuse me?"

"My brother," Loki says, "is as you have suggested. He agrees with you." He smiles. "But he can accomplish something you could not--he can convince Tyr."

Doom laughs. "Well, this is a brighter outcome than I had hoped for. So, we go to war with Asgard?" This is pushing up the timeline of things he wanted somewhat, but no matter. He feels ready.

Thor narrows his eyes. "But for the right reasons, yes? Not so you may depose my father and take over rule of Asgard yourself."

Loki laughs.

"Ugh," Victor says, scowling. "I have no interest in ruling Asgard. I have my own country already. You may have noticed you're in its embassy."

"You did say on that _one_ occasion," Loki muses. Victor remembers after a second what Loki is talking about, and is grateful Thor can't see him blush.

"That wasn't," he blusters, "that doesn't--count."

Thor sets his jaw and regards Doom angrily. He realizes he's been overprotective of Loki again and makes himself say, "Whoever rules in my father's place, it will be an Asgardian. Someone who can control the people."

"Something I have no interest in doing," Doom says shortly. "I only want to serve justice to the monsters who rule there now." He glances at Loki. Loki seems well. Loki seems _very_ well, which is a thought that makes Doom the slightest bit jealous. There is, however, no time to dwell on it now. "I wish the people who harmed your sibling to pay dearly," he says. "As to what happens afterwards, I do not care."

Loki fidgets against the attention. He does not like to feel like a victim, and too much kindness and too _much_ belief are making it difficult to feel otherwise.

"I have no choice but to believe you for now," Thor says. "I may have more trouble convincing my friends."

Loki swallows. "Perhaps if I see them," he says. He doesn't want to. Thor has already told him that they see him as little more than some sort of damaged pet.

"Yes," Thor says. "I think it would help if they could speak to you. Both of you." He is not, he realizes, going to be able to sell them the idea of Doctor Doom joining up with them. Not for any cause.

"All right," Loki says, smoothing over his nerves. "I could try that."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> End Part 3.


End file.
